


No Deliverance

by JennCvice



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Consensual Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Imprisonment, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-14
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennCvice/pseuds/JennCvice
Summary: Buffy's just looking for a good time on a rare night off. Angelus steps in when she finds herself in a compromising situation. She turns the tables on him, thwarting his carefully laid-out plans. Rated M for a few good reasons. Complete, with sequel currently in progress!
Relationships: Angelus & Buffy Summers, Angelus (BtVS)/Buffy Summers, Cordelia Chase/Xander Harris, Daniel "Oz" Osbourne/Willow Rosenberg, Drusilla/Spike (BtVS), Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	1. Buffy

**Hello, all!**

**This was my first fanfic, posted on a *different* fanfic site, and finally copied to this one. I am currently (as of 2/27/20) writing a sequel titled "Delivered Unto Evil," which you can find on my profile page. New chapters are posted weekly, or thereabouts.**

**Warnings for this fanfic: you can see from my tags that we're dealing with some pretty violent subject matter. If you need to stop reading, if you need to skip parts that are too difficult for you to process, that is just fine. Please do what you need to, to protect your mental health.**

**Disclaimer: To be honest, I don't know who technically "owns" BtVS. Obviously, it's not me. It's not like I'm making a profit from it (as if I could).**

**Enjoy!**

**Jenn**

* * *

No Deliverance

Buffy made her way back to the bar, winding her way through the sea of gyrating couples on the dance floor. The new outfit she wore was impractical for slaying. And why not? She needed a night off, and Giles had miraculously agreed. He and Ms. Calendar would patrol tonight. _If any two people need to get laid, it's them!_ Buffy then stifled a gag, when she thought of the two of them in bed together.

Finally reaching her destination, she leaned back against the bar with her elbows propped up. Her short emerald green skirt caught what little light bathed the room, exhibiting her tanned, shapely legs. The strappy black heels, a gift from her mostly-absent father, added another four inches to her petite frame, making her seem slightly more intimidating. A modest black tank top finished her ensemble and her blonde hair was pulled up into a casual twist; the usual stray pieces of hair effortlessly framed her pouty countenance.

The occasional guy would give her an appreciative glance, but her guarded expression said "Thanks, but I'm not interested." A little attention was fine, flattering even…but she was not in the mood to be charmed by some would-be Romeo.

A quick survey of the room indicated that Willow and Oz had left their table to find a quieter place to study. Buffy smiled to herself, thinking that her two redheaded friends certainly went against the stereotypes associated with their hair color group. And no doubt Xander and Cordelia had found their way to some cozy corner of the Bronze to either argue or makeout. Most likely one then the other _._

 _Always the fifth wheel_ , she mused. Buffy let out a sigh, allowing herself a small pity party, before snapping out of it. She was the Slayer! The Chosen One! She was a lone wolf…a solo act…a solitary guardian…a…um…wait, where was she going with this?

"Compliments of the 'gentleman' at the end of the bar," the bartender announced behind her. She turned around in time to catch the harried worker roll his eyes at the cheesy line he'd just delivered. She hadn't missed the sarcasm laced in his voice when he had spoken the word 'gentleman.'

Buffy looked at him quizzically. His response was a shrug and a gesture toward the person in question. Before looking over, she brought the clear drink up to her nose and had a quick nip of the odorless liquid. She realized why the bartender had rolled his eyes. Water? She glanced over to where her generous benefactor stood.

All the way to her left, sitting at the bar, was your typical clean-cut frat boy. She knew the breed, from his blond, strategically-mussed hair to the I'm-too-cool-for-real-shoes flip-flops. The t-shirt he donned from the most recent fratastic event was a dead giveaway, as well.

He waved shyly, making his way over to her. Buffy raised an eyebrow at his daring approach, but did not move. Attention was distracting…no, wait, what? Attention was _flattering_. That's what she meant. Obviously.

"Hey, I'm Mike. How's the drink?"

Buffy forced a smile. She took an obligatory sip, and then she smiled again.

"Clever. Did you have to call in a special favor with the owner to get the extra ice?"

Mike looked suddenly perplexed, but didn't let his confusion deter him.

"No, I don't know the owner. It's just water. Right?"

"Right, Mike." Buffy inwardly rolled her eyes, but bit her tongue from adding any other cutting remarks. They were lost on this guy, anyway. "So…" Buffy trailed off.

"So, can I get your name? Or am I asking too much?" Mike smiled broadly, confident in his conversational tactics, apparently.

"I'm sorry. I'm…Lindsay." Hoping he didn't catch the slight hesitation, she brought the glass to her lips and downed the rest of the water. She could stand to be polite for a while longer.

"Lindsay, huh?" Mike looked skeptical for about half a second. "That's always been my favorite name. For a girl, that is. Not for, like, a kid or anything, though. I mean, it's a nice name for a little girl. I would probably think of naming my kid Lindsay. But I don't have any kids, obviously. I just like the name Lindsay. It goes well with my name, Mike…"

Buffy almost choked on her water, holding back the laughter from listening to Mike dig himself into an ever-deepening hole.

"…I actually love kids. Well, like kids. I'm just not ready, at this stage of my life, to have any. I mean, I'm still looking for the right girl. Right? Hahaha…Oh geez, I sound like an idiot, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

_Hmmm…apparently he's not as smooth as he was trying to make himself out to be._

"Why?" Buffy asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you nervous?" This was getting annoying. Maybe she shouldn't have encouraged him. So much for charity.

Mike stared at her for a minute, as if he was studying her. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he quickly looked away, scanning the room. Finding whomever he was searching for, he called out.

"Hey! Joey! Hey, bro! Come over here!"

A shorter version of Frat Boy Mike made a beeline over to where his "brother" was standing with Buffy. Joey had a pleasant face, with somewhat jacked-up teeth. His thick, dark eyebrows furrowed together in mock toughness, but did nothing to mask his insecurity, as he used one of his thick hands to smooth his coarse hair. He wore a UC Sunnydale lacrosse t-shirt, jeans, and an unrecognizable brand of sneakers. His artificial-looking biceps suggested steroid use. Utterly forgettable.

Buffy sighed, but forced a respectful grin, as Joey unabashedly checked her out. What had she gotten herself into? Enough with the pretenses…

Suddenly, the room began to get blurry. Buffy closed and opened her eyes, and everything seemed normal. Mike introduced his "bro" to her, but his voice seemed distant, like an echo. Joey and Mike made small talk and she listened politely, nodding in assent when she was expected to agree to whatever it was they talked about. She hoped they didn't notice her spacing out.

Surely the feeling of disorientation would pass. She wasn't sick. And she didn't have anything to drink, so she couldn't be drunk. It was probably just getting late and the stress was most likely getting to her. It's not easy to be everything to everyone.

Joey looked at her and asked her a question. She stared back at him blankly. What had he asked her? He laughed and looked over at Mike who shrugged. Joey grabbed Buffy's hand and led her onto the dance floor. She allowed him to do so, ignoring the faint urge to knee him in a most sensitive area. Her limbs felt oddly heavy. What was wrong with her?

It was as if everyone and everything, including Buffy, moved in slow motion. She stared into the distance as she felt Joey pull her against him. He wasn't much taller than her, but he bravely used his hands to explore her body. They swayed off-beat to the sensual music playing. He pulled her even closer to her, groping her butt to grind her hips into him. He then forced her head onto his shoulder. Buffy saw, through her hazy vision, that the other couples on the floor didn't so much as glance over in her and Joey's direction. They probably just looked like another intimate duo, dancing at the Bronze.

She felt one of his hands grab her breast and knead it roughly. Unsatisfied with the clothing that concealed her skin from his touch, he began to work his hand up the inside of her top. The hand that held her butt now reached further down to the inside of her thigh, under her skirt. He pressed on the crotch of her underwear, and then used his fingers to pull the garment to the side. She could defend herself! She wasn't helpless! She was no victim; she was Buffy the Vampire Slayer!

But her limbs felt weighted down, and her senses were dragging at a sluggish pace…she felt as if she'd been shot full of tranquilizers.

The water!

She thought he heard Joey whispering in her ear. She only caught phrases, but she got the idea, even in her weakened state.

"…so much fun…not over, yet…glad we met…just you wait…make my bros jealous…"

Buffy closed her eyes and used all her energy to move the hand that seemed determined to trespass under her underwear.

At that instant, however, she felt another person's arm wrap around her waist from behind. She opened her eyes in time to see the person's (man's?) other arm push Joey to the ground. Falling on his ass, Joey looked up at his assailant. Whomever he saw behind her was intimidating enough to make him back off immediately. He stormed off, looking like the kid who had his ice cream stolen by the neighborhood bully.

Buffy was confused by Joey's hasty retreat, but relieved to know that he and his straying hands were out of the picture. She let herself go slack into the hard body behind her, barely recognizing the familiar scent that emanated from the man who still held her against him.

She breathed him in deeply, then exhaled the name of the person who had to be behind her… "Angelus…"


	2. Angelus

A dark figure leaned on the brick wall that faced the entrance of a local teen hangout. He silently watched as groups of students came and went from the club, reeking of alcohol and hormones. And blood. Lovely, lovely blood.

Angelus wore all black, making him more of a shadow to the passerby than the true threat that he was. The door to The Bronze opened occasionally, and he would steal a fleeting glance to the dance floor, where the Slayer had been since her arrival that night. He couldn't see what she was wearing, but he knew she would look as stunning as she always did. Ripples of excitement rushed over him, as he thought about the outcome of the plan he would be executing momentarily. If a vampire could get goose bumps, he would have had them now.

Lost in his anticipation, he barely noticed the Slayer's redheaded friend and pet werewolf make their way out of the club. Fortunately, they were too consumed in stumbling over words of adoration to each other. He used his cat-like reflexes and speed to dart out of their view. After they'd passed out of sight, he made his way back to his original post.

A group of college boys made their way toward The Bronze, looking as if they'd already started partying at their little fraternity house. They joked with each other loudly, arguing over who would buy the first round of drinks. An annoying song started to play, and one of them took out his cell phone. He motioned for his friends to go ahead inside, that he would join them after taking the call. Touching one of the buttons on his phone, the young man silenced the annoying ring tone and held it up to his ear. His friends jeered at him for a bit, before leaving him alone in the alley.

Well, almost alone.

As the frat boy got off the phone, Angelus called out to him.

"Hey! Dude! Are you a Beta Kap?"

The young man turned toward the dark figure, suspicious, but intrigued.

"Yeah, I am."

"No way! That is so awesome! I was one at my college. You go to UC Sunnydale?"

The young man made his way over to where Angelus stood… _Closer…closer…_

"Yeah, I'm actually out with some of my fraternity brothers tonight. You want to join us?"

Angelus stalled. He wanted this guy to just come a little closer, within grabbing distance.

"That sounds cool, yeah. I thought I saw a bunch of guys walk past here with Beta Kappa Lambda stuff on. Is that who you're with?"

The kid got excited at the mention of his fraternity. He took another step toward Angelus. _Close enough!_

"Yeah! We're out for the night, leaving the pledges to clean up the mess from this crazy party we threw last –"

He was interrupted when Angelus suddenly grabbed him and threw him up against the wall.

"What's your name, boy?" Angelus snarled at him.

Terrified and shocked into silence at being effortlessly picked up and pinned, he was barely able to stutter it out. "M-m-m-m… Mike!"

Angelus locked his gaze on Frat Boy Mike. "I'm not one of your brothers. Technically, I'm not even one of your kind. I have a favor to ask of you, Mike."

Mike squirmed against the wall, using his hands try loosening Angelus' vice-like grip from his throat. His efforts were futile. Angelus relaxed his hold, still pinning Mike to the wall, and adopted a more friendly tone of voice.

"So, what do you say, Mike? Would you be willing to help me out?"

"W-what do you w-want me to do?"

"Nothing too difficult. I know how you frat boys are." Angelus laughed darkly. "Here's the thing: there's this girl in The Bronze, a total slut, who needs to be taught a lesson. I'm going to give you a little vial of liquid to put in her drink."

Mike looked hesitant, thinking about what the vial could possible contain.

"Don't worry, Mike. It'll be tasteless, and it's just a mild sedative. Ask the bartender for water, empty the contents of the vial into it, and have the bartender send it over to the girl that I point out."

"T-that's it?"

Angelus smirked. "No, not quite, _dude_. I need you to strike up a conversation with her, just long enough to see that the sedative is working. You'll know when it hits. After that, I suggest you back off and let me take over. And that's it, Mike."

Mike quickly nodded his assent, relaxing a bit as Angelus let him go. As Mike turned toward the entrance of the bar, Angelus' arm blocked his way. "One more thing, there, Mike."

Mike turned back to face Angelus. Now in his true visage, the vampire used his other hand to stifle the scream that attempted to free itself from his little minion's lips. Mike saw the fanged face and recalled the stranger's earlier words… _I'm not even one of your kind…_

"I'll be watching you. If you try to do or say anything stupid, you'll regret it. I happen to be a very, very dangerous… person." Angelus laughed at his choice in words, then morphed his face back to its illusory human form. He took a step away from the boy, who didn't move from where he stood against the wall. "So, what do you say, Mike? Let's go have some fun!"

Angelus put his arm over Mike's shoulder and laughed. When Mike didn't follow suit, Angelus narrowed his eyes at him, showing off a fang with a menacing sneer. Mike forced out a nervous laugh and Angelus laughed with him, as they made their way to the entrance of The Bronze.

Once inside, Angelus took in his surroundings, keeping a firm grip on Mike's shoulder. He couldn't have the human sneaking off into the crowd. He steered them over to the far end of the bar, where they would wait for Buffy to leave the dance floor.

"Let's make this realistic, kid, I wouldn't want Buffy to be suspicious of the guy buying her drink. She needs to drink it all."

"Buffy?" Mike questioned, his voice barely a whisper.

Angelus nodded toward the Slayer, swaying attractively on the dance floor to the fast music that played. "Buffy."

He placed the small vial in Mike's hand and left him at the bar to take his place in the shadows. He leaned against a pillar and noticed the Slayer's two brunette friends arguing in the opposite corner of the large room. The boy seemed to be getting chided by the girl for something he did wrong. However, in the next instant, the boy had taken the girl's face in his hands and kissed her, effectively cutting off her argument. Angelus rolled his eyes as their tonsil hockey session became more intense. He focused, instead, on the Slayer.

She'd certainly picked the wrong night to wear THAT outfit. How was she going to fight him in those ridiculously high heels and short skirt? Then again, if all went according to plan, he wouldn't have to worry about her fighting him, anyway. She would succumb to her death quietly, drugged into submission. She would still be coherent, but unable to fight him off, as he tortured her slowly. She would pay for being his one weakness.

Suddenly, she left the dance floor, coming toward the bar. Angelus looked at Mike, who nodded his understanding. The bartender seemed especially busy, but Mike pressed his way through the throng at the bar to place his order. Angelus looked back toward his prey. She continued to weave her way from the dance floor, her movements as fluid as a dancer's. She took no notice of the stares that followed her as she passed through the crowd. Lustful eyes took her in, wherever she went.

When she reached the bar, she turned to scan the room. _She must be looking for her little friends…Sorry, Buff, there's no one here to watch out for you. Except me._ She had a hard look in her eyes. Men would look her up and down, but not dare to approach her. She looked like she could use a drink. Right about now.

Angelus looked back to Mike, wondering what was taking so long. It's not like he had to pay for the damn water! Mike turned around to see the stranger's glowering look, and hurriedly got the bartender's attention. Finally on his way to completing his task, Angelus watched as his pathetic underling placed the glass of water out of sight from the bartender and poured out the contents in the vial. There was enough diazepam to sedate a couple of horses in that drink. For the body of a Slayer, it would be enough to keep her in a trance-like state for the duration of the night.

Mike motioned for the bartender to come back. Hearing what Mike had to say, the bartender shot him a look that showed him how little he thought of the patron in front of him. Thankfully, the bartender took the glass and delivered it to its intended target.

Buffy accepted the drink, took a whiff of it, then a small sip. _That's a good start_. Seeming to relax at the knowledge that it was "just water," she looked over to where Mike was standing. The frat boy walked over to meet Buffy, and the two engaged in what looked like awkward conversation. Buffy finished off the drink, and Mike began to look even more nervous. He looked at her as if he was waiting for an immediate reaction. _What an idiot_.

Mike looked away from Buffy and saw one of the guys that he had come to The Bronze with. Angelus was immediately on guard. _What in the hell is he doing?_ Mike called out for his friend to come over to where he stood with Buffy. _Ah, I see. Not quite as dumb as I had you pegged, frat boy. You're going to pass her off to a friend and leave the scene…_

Staying predictable, Mike did just that, as both he and Angelus saw that the drug was taking effect. Buffy seemed disoriented, her movements were more labored, as Mike and his "brother" talked. The friend asked Buffy something, but she couldn't respond. Mike just shrugged, when his friend looked over at him. As his friend pulled the Slayer toward the dance floor, Mike walked toward the exit. Angelus followed him outside. When they were out of sight from the club, Angel spoke up.

"Good job, Mike," Angelus said to his partner in crime. Mike spun around, fear contorting his face. "You did a better job than I thought you would. Who did you pawn her off to?"

"I-I thought you said her n-name was Buffy? She told me her name was Lindsay. And I-I thought my buddy would do a b-better job than me."

Angelus shook his head, laughing and stomping his foot into the ground. He put his hands into his coat pockets.

"Lindsay? Heh heh heh… That's clever. I'll have to mention that to her. No, that was Buffy. My Buffy."

Mike shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Okay, well, I did what you asked. I guess I'll be going, I have to study…" He started to turn, but stopped when Angelus spoke.

"Oh, Mike. I have a little problem. I'm hungry. And I can't be hungry when I see Buffy. That just would ruin all of my plans tonight. And I can't have you go around telling this 'wicked, awesome story' to your 'brothers.'" Angelus smirked. He knew what would happen next. The pleading.

"I swear dude, I won't say anything. Never. I'm done, we're done, and I'll never speak about it. I swear." Mike's eyes were full of fright, and…what else… tears? Was he about to cry? _Oh, this is just TOO good…_

"Would you swear on your letters, of Beta Kappa Lambda, that you would never mention this night to anyone?" Angelus looked as sincere as possible. He held out his hand to Mike.

"Absolutely." Mike shook the stranger's hand, looking up to find the same demonic face he'd seen before entering The Bronze. Angelus pulled Mike against him and used his free hand to grip his shoulder, holding him in place. He spoke against Mike's ear and relished in the quickening pace of his soon-to-be victim's heart.

"Well, I appreciate that Mike, but I'd rather make this a blood oath!"

With that, Angelus sank his teeth into Mike's neck, quenching his thirst for blood. When he saw the Slayer, he would be stronger and more patient, able to withstand his blood lust for as long as it would take for him to enjoy breaking her body to the brink of death. Then she would meet Mike's fate.

When he was finished, Angelus threw the body into a nearby dumpster and went back to The Bronze. He went to the edge of the dance floor, looking for the Slayer and the unnamed frat boy that she would be with. His eyes narrowed as he watched the eager human grope the Slayer's drugged body. This was too much. Disgusted, he walked over to where they were, noticing the jackass work his hand under her skirt, as the Slayer used all her effort to push his hand away. Angelus placed one arm around her midsection and used the other to push the piece of filth to the floor.

Buffy was aware of what was going on, but remained silent, swaying a little against him, as she attempted to stay vertical. The goon looked up at Angelus, who gave him a menacing, possessive growl. Rightfully so, the boy was sufficiently intimidated, but still pissed off. He left the dance floor, and Buffy, behind. _Smart move, little boy. Just be thankful you didn't have the same ending to your night as your bro, Mike._

He felt the Slayer lean into him, pressing her back against his chest. She closed her eyes, and Angelus was aware of her heavy breathing. She took one particularly deep breath and surprised him when she said his name. His demon name. He cocked one eyebrow, as he stared down at her.

He could afford to delay his plans for a little while. What could one dance hurt?

Taking advantage of her weakened state, and the sensual music playing, he left the arm around her waist in place and used his other hand to cradle the fragile neck he would be tearing into later. Her arms remained at her sides, as she allowed the demon behind her to rock them in time to the rhythm.


	3. Their Dance

Buffy knew, despite the toxin that kept her mind hazy, that it had to be Angelus holding her. The same vampire she had fought yet had not been able to kill. She was too weak to pull herself away from him, and her mind was clouded from whatever had been in that water.

She felt a rush of adrenaline as Angelus placed his hand around her neck. With all her strength, she surged her body forward, away from his powerful embrace. He easily pulled her tighter against him, holding her where he wanted her.

They began to sway to the music, which wasn't altogether unpleasant, considering her current state. Had she been able to pull away from him, she wouldn't have gotten far. A face-plant onto the dance floor, perhaps?

She barely registered the air that left Angelus' mouth as he spoke into her ear.

"I just did you a little favor, there, Buff. I mean, think of the repulsive things that boy could have done to you? I think…" Angelus paused, as his fingers drug across her neck.

"I think that I deserve a thank you. What do you think?" The dark vampire spoke slowly, making sure that the Slayer understood his every word.

Buffy swallowed. Her throat felt dry. _I should play nice…I'm not…I'm not exactly… …feeling…hmm…_

"Thank you…Angelus." The words came out a whisper, but Buffy felt hopeful that she was cognizant enough to do even that much.

She heard him sigh, as his whole body mimicked the gesture. Why did he even bother to use such human behaviors? Weren't all things human considered to be disdainful to the demon world?

"Ah, Buff…" Angelus sniffed below her ear, along her jaw. With one finger, he deftly scratched his nail against her skin, right below her ear. The small slit began to bleed, and Buffy's eyes widened at the feel of blood dripping down her neck. Why on earth wasn't anyone noticing her distress? Was it _that_ dark in The Bronze?

Angelus sneered as he nuzzled her.

"Who says 'thank you' to a vampire? If you wanted to thank me properly, you'd tilt your head ever so slightly, and make this easier. For you and for me."

He lightly licked the blood drops that languidly made their way down from the wound, stroking his tongue up her neck, until he'd reached the spot where the blood pulsated from.

To the onlooker, it appeared that the handsome couple on the dance floor was engaging in a public display of affection. To Buffy, it felt like Angelus was making love to her, as he gently sucked at the incision he'd made. To Angelus, the Slayer's blood tasted like the heaven he'd never see…an addictive aphrodisiac that made him moan in anticipation for the sweet torture to come.

He wrenched himself away from her neck, not wishing to do her harm in such a public location. Business was to be conducted elsewhere, in private. He looked down to where he'd sliced her, only to see it had already scabbed over. _Interesting_ , he thought.

Sick of not being able to see her face properly, Angelus slowly turned Buffy around in his arms. Her arms were still limp at her sides, which meant that she was mostly dependent on his strength to keep up the charade. Angelus stared down at her face, into her hooded eyes. Was there desire there? Did she actually derive some pleasure from their encounter? _Very interesting…_

Angelus spoke into her ear, as she closed her eyes.

"I know you, Slayer. You're no different than those who preceded you. When it comes down to it, you're alone. Don't you feel it?"

Angelus pulled away enough to notice her eyes were closed and a tear was close to escaping down one of her lovely cheeks. He bent back down to her ear, enjoying her scent and continuing their one-sided conversation.

"You think my life is a curse. I say you're the one who's cursed. I'm immortal, while a Slayer's life is much shorter than the average human's lifespan. I was given the choice to become what I am. You were destined, even from birth, to become yet another Chosen One. I'm able to bring forth life, even as I kill, adding to my family. You kill those you care about, because of who you are and what you do. You put them in harm's way, even as you try to protect them."

Angelus raised his head again, staring down into her eyes which had opened. She, however, stared over his shoulder into nothingness. Her eyes seemed deadened, while tears silently made their way down her face. Angelus smirked, when she finally looked back at him.

"Your life is stressful, your friends are fleeting, and your work is under-appreciated. Death is easier than you think, Buff. It will bring you the peace you've been craving."

Angelus kissed her cheek almost tenderly. He whispered into her ear.

"Let me be your savior, Buff. Let me save you from your curse."

Buffy's head fell against his muscular shoulder. Her eyes were still open, but heavy. She breathed him in, missing his better half, Angel. He took one of her arms and put it around his neck, held in place by his hand.

As they continued their dance, he took in their surroundings. She was, by far, the best looking specimen in the room. She'd always been. His demonic half hadn't forgotten how good her kisses felt to his weaker counterpart. Weak. Angel was weak. Angelus, on the other hand, was raw power. Angel was Clark Kent. Angelus was Superman. They shared a body, a mind. Just not the same… vision.

He stopped momentarily, when he thought he heard the Slayer say something.

"I didn't quite catch that, princess, what did you say?"

Buffy tilted her head up. Angelus noticed the cut he'd made was mostly healed, now.

"I miss you…" she whispered.

Angelus raised an eyebrow.

"You miss who? I'm not the good ole' boy you knew. I'm NOT the good guy."

"I know," she sighed. Her words came out slowly, strained. "I don't…care, anymore. I just…miss…you."

"You're hardly ready to fight me, Buff. I don't think it'd be fair of me to make you try…"

"No…" Buffy interrupted. Her eyes were closed, again, and her brows furrowed. "I don't think…I have it…in me…to…fight you. Ever."

 _Is she really making it this easy for me? I was counting on her resistance to add to my fun._ Angelus held back the rage that masked his confusion. It was all he could do to keep himself from snapping her pathetic little neck right there on the dance floor. If she wasn't going to act like her predictable self, why should he? Thinking better of it, he calmed himself down and adopted his sinister smirk. He watched the couples dancing around them, as he spoke softly into her ear.

"Oh, Buff. Silly little Slayer. Our fighting is at an end. You'll die tonight. Or maybe tomorrow morning, depending on how things go. And your… _our_ suffering will finally end."

He had noticed that her body had slumped considerably as he'd talked, but was still surprised to see her passed out in his arms. He smiled at that, while slowly lowering the arm he'd held around his neck. In one fell swoop, he gathered her in his arms, cradling her as he made his way off the dance floor. Curious looks followed him as he passed, which he dismissed with a casual smile and a roll of his eyes.

"A little too much partying for my girlfriend, here. Guess it's bedtime," he joked to those patrons who looked overly-concerned.

To Buffy, he whispered: "Thanks for the dance."

_Let's get down to business, then, shall we, Slayer?_

As the couple left the club, the music played on. A faster tempo this time, luring those who had been without dance partners to join in on the fun.

At the end of the night, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief. What a ridiculously busy night! If his coworker ever thought about bailing out on him again on a Friday night, he'd kill him! He began cleaning up the bar, then putting the stools back in place.

On the ground, he noticed a small glass vial. Picking it up, he noticed it was empty and mostly dry of any contents. _Whatever was in it must have been clear…and odorless_ , he mused, sniffing at the opening. Worried about what that could mean, he pushed unsavory thoughts from his mind and threw the small object into the trash.


	4. City of Angels

**First, an author's note… :)**

**I won't be writing phonetically, so you'll have to imagine Spike's cockney lilt and Dru's obnoxious, drawn-out pronunciations. Okay, I lied. I** _**will** _ **write phonetically toward the end, but only because they're two original characters.**

**Also, this story takes place in my version of the Buffy-verse. Hence, Spike will NOT be forced to fake the need for a wheelchair.**

**Thanks, again, and happy reading!**

**Jenn**

* * *

Spike played around in the wheelchair that had once held the man Dru drained for dinner. Earlier that night, she'd gone into town for a couple of victims. Spike had jokingly asked if she couldn't just call for "Meals on Wheels." As to be expected, Dru hadn't understood, but, in typical fashion, she had delivered what she felt to be the closest thing to what Spike requested: a paralyzed vet in his mid-forties.

Spike moved the chair about their lair, as Dru brushed the hair on one of her dolls and sang jumbled words.

"Ugh… If I _ever_ had to be resigned to actually using this stupid human contraption, I'm hoping you'd kill me, first. Although, it is quite amusing…for recreational purposes _only_ ," he spoke aloud, but mostly to himself.

"Spike," Dru cooed at her childe.

"Yes, love?"

"When will Angelus be back? I know Daddy needed to feed, but I miss him. I wanted to show him my new friend." She held up the doll she had been fiddling with, and Spike feigned interest in a doll that looked almost identical to the rest of her collection.

"Well, pet, I'm sure Angelus will be back before sunrise, so you really shouldn't bother worrying your pretty little head about him. Besides, you have me to keep you company."

"Yes, but…what if Daddy meets up with the Slayer, again? He can't help the trouble he gets into, and her heart will eventually harden…" Dru trailed off, as she found dancing with her doll to be a more amusing pastime.

Spike muttered softly, "Then good riddance to the sod." Aloud, he pacified his insane girlfriend. "Angelus is a big boy, love. He can fend for himself. Now, why don't you sit on my lap? Would you like a ride around the room?"

Dru squealed shrilly. "Can my friend join us?"

The blonde vampire stifled a groan and graciously nodded. As she crossed the room to where he sat in the wheelchair, Spike wondered if it would ever just be the two of them. _No bloody Angelus, no fucking dolls…_

Unbeknownst to his family, Angelus carried the Slayer to a car he had waiting about half a mile from The Bronze. He had no intention of bringing her back to his family's lair. This was a personal matter. What he had with the Slayer had always been personal, and he didn't need Spike or Drusila screwing with his plans.

Instead, he had found a vacant apartment building on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Investigating further, he'd discovered that the building was still technically under construction, while the contractors and building owners fought some stupid battle in court. Although the apartments were mostly done, the building's completion would have to wait until the legal system was through with the two warring parties.

He'd brought the necessary supplies to the room he'd scouted earlier that week, when he was supposedly out hunting. His hunger might have overtaken him, had he not smelled the occasional squatters in the building. After leaving their dried-out bodies in dumpsters around the area, word had gotten out on the street to stay out of that particular building. No one spoke the word "vampire."

Angelus looked down at the Slayer, as he continued walking toward the car. Her head was against his chest, eyes closed, and her chest moved in-time with her relaxed breathing. He noticed goosebumps on her arms and legs, and smirked at that small sign of discomfort.

What would her family and friends say when they saw the note he'd left on her bed? Her Watcher would be disappointed, and her friends would feel betrayed. Her mother would most likely cry her broken heart out.

He'd meticulously forged the note, which started off with her apology for leaving Sunnydale and then went on about the reasons for why she was doing so. He had included that, should any of them try to find her, before she was ready to come home, she would just run farther out of their reach. And blah, blah, blah… Leaving the note had been tricky, since the wards were up, now that he'd gone back to his demon self. He contemplated how and where to place it, before just flicking into the room…like a Frisbee. It had landed on her bed. Perfect!

Finally reaching the black truck he'd stolen at an impound lot, he opened the passenger door and gently placed the Slayer inside. She stirred slightly, at the movement, but she fell back asleep instantly. Angelus circled around to the driver's side and got in. As he started the car, a strange thought occurred to him, and he carefully repositioned her. Now, her head was in his lap, while the rest of her upper body lay across the front seat. He paused, and turned the heater on, watching her carefully.

Her goosebumps went down, and she sighed peacefully as she moved her head up against his hip. She brought her right hand up, placing it on his thigh, near her head. Angelus froze, caught off guard. She made no other movements, so he went ahead and started driving toward their destination. He had the strangest urge to pet her hair…

Giving into his random desire, he went ahead and softly ran his fingers through her flaxen hair. Finding her hairstyle to be hindering, he removed the various types of clips that had fastened her blonde locks. He thought about putting the clips somewhere in the car, but thought they would like to see the outdoors. Rolling down the window, he chucked them out. He quickly rolled the window back up, to seal them from the chilly night air.

 _Where in the hell did THAT come from?_ He thought, his brow furrowed in confusion. _Then again…I might as well take advantage of the fact that she won't remember any of this._

He continued to brush his fingers over her hair…her neck…her shoulders…and anything else he could reach. They made their way out of Sunnydale, home of the Hellmouth, and drove on to Los Angeles, the City of Angels. In the Hellmouth, however, the Slayer had control. She had a support system. In Los Angeles, she would have no control, and she would have no one but him. The irony wasn't lost on the vampire.

Angelus saw that the Slayer was beginning to rouse, so he stopped touching her and focused on the drive.

Pulling up to the apartment building, Angelus noticed something new. A security guard. Groaning at his turn of bad luck, he drove past their destination to scope the situation out.

 _Hmmm…two of them. Looks like the owners have heard some of the rumors going around._ He snickered. _Or perhaps they don't appreciate the dead bodies I've left as a selling point._

He decided that the best course of action was to park around the corner and come back for the Slayer after he'd disposed of the two guards. Finding a parking spot in the shadows of an adjacent street, he left the car and the Slayer to take care of the small speed bump.

It was never like Angelus to pounce on a meal before playing with it.

The demon approached them confidently, walking with a calm swagger. The two guards had been talking, but now they separated, studying the stranger clad in all-black that advanced toward them so boldly.

"Stop right there, young man," the older officer ordered. _Clearly a retired police officer, and the more experienced of the two_ , Angelus thought. The man stood at a humble height, not even close to the six foot mark, and had dark grey hair. Assured from the skills he'd garnished in the line of duty, he stood in front of the younger officer.

The younger man, on the other hand, towered over the senior officer, yet stood rather hesitantly behind him. He had light brown hair, cropped in a crew cut. He attempted to look tough, while darting glances back and forth from his partner to the stranger.

Angelus stopped, about fifteen feet from the humans. He smiled broadly, and held his hands up to show he meant no harm.

"I'm sorry, I was just going to ask you for your help. I'm not exactly from around here, and I was looking for some direction…" Angelus smiled meekly at the two men.

The junior officer stepped back slowly, leaning against their patrol car, after he'd bumped into it. The senior officer did not drop his guard, but he did soften his tone.

"No, that's fine, I'd be happy to help. It's just so late at night, you can't blame me for thinking the worst," the officer joked. "Where are you looking to go?"

"I was on my way to my new apartment, but I could actually go for some fast food."

"Where's your car?" the younger officer stepped into the conversation.

Angelus motioned toward where he'd parked his truck. "Just over there. I was looking for something to eat, when I saw you two."

The older gentleman smiled at the strange choice in words. "Well, there are plenty of fast food restaurants about six blocks south of here. Might want to stay in your car though, it's not the safest neighborhood. Especially at night."

"Oh?"

The younger man picked up from where his senior officer had left off. "Yeah, there have been some…incidents here, lately, which is why we're out patrolling."

"What kind of incidents?"

"Never you mind about that, son. You should get going, before those fast food joints shut down for the night," the older man finished. Evidently, game time was at an end for all parties. _Shame_.

Angelus dropped his head in mock embarrassment. "Eh… I don't have the money to buy anything, anyway. Gas prices and all."

"Well, son, I'd like to help you out, but that's not our business. Sorry 'bout that."

Angelus smiled and lifted his face, now in demon form. "You can't spare a couple bucks? How about a liter or two of blood?"

The senior officer stumbled back toward the car, reaching for the gun he'd brought with him for added protection. He was glad he had it, despite his partner's concerns about it being a violation of company policy. The younger officer clumsily turned to grab for the radio in the car. Seeing the radio (and the complications that would ensue) as his number one threat, Angelus lunged for the younger officer and threw him away from the car. As he reached for the radio, two shots rang out.

Angelus looked at his right hand, where he held parts from the now-destroyed radio. He dropped them to the ground and turned his attention to the two holes in his chest. He looked up at the officer with his human face and stumbled toward him, before falling to the ground. He rolled over in pain, then shut his eyes.

"Wha-wha-what just happened?" The junior officer held his baton, looking to his supervisor for an answer. "Did you see that? With the, the, the face? What was that?"

"It was nothing that a couple of bullets couldn't handle." The man answered gruffly. He bent over the body, reaching toward the pulse point on Angelus' neck. "Better make sure he's dead…just in case." Feeling for a beat, there was nothing, and the senior officer pulled his hand back, satisfied.

Angelus grabbed the officer's hand and smirked menacingly. "Oh, I assure you, officer. I'm dead, alright."

In one swift motion, he'd disarmed the older guard and pinned him on the ground. The younger officer froze, his panic incapacitating him. Angelus bit right into the officer's vocal cords, silencing him permanently. When the other officer finally found his legs and started running from the scene, Angelus sighed and snapped the older man's neck.

The young man ran as hard as he could, his asthma fighting him with every movement. He ducked behind a building, wheezing in his temporary hiding place.

Angelus dropped down out of nowhere, it seemed, right in front of the security guard. The junior officer gasped, further restricting his air flow. The combination of trauma and fatigue won out, as the officer suddenly fainted. Angelus caught him by his arms.

"Since you weren't the one that ruined my shirt, I guess I won't be too hard on you. Besides, I have a hot date that I have to get back to." And with that, Angelus sharply twisted the young man's neck.

Angelus dumped both bodies in a large trash bin at the end of the block. He could feel that his body had already pushed the bullets out of the wounds they'd inflicted, probably as he ran. Now he'd be able to heal fully. _That bastard_ … _I don't have time to get another shirt!_

He decided to leave the patrol car where it was parked. Maybe, if he was lucky, some juvenile delinquent would take it for a joyride. He jogged over to the truck, where he'd left the Slayer.

Just as he was about to turn the corner, he heard voices coming from where the truck was parked. He paused to listen.

"Naw, man, it seems too good to be true."

"It's too good to pass up, bro. Why you wanna run scared? A suped up truck and a passed out blonde, man. Don't puss out on me. We're taking both for a ride."

"And where we gonna go, dawg? Your mom's? My mom's? What the hell we gonna do?"

"We're gonna drive away from here and find some place private to mess around. Look at her, man, why you wanna walk away from that?"

"Shit, Kenny, whatever man, let's hurry the fuck up, then."

"Great. I'll drive. I want that bitch's head in my lap. Ha HA!"

"HA! I'm an ass man, myself, so I don't give a shit where her head is!"

Around the corner, Angelus rolled his eyes. _Seriously? How many more guys am I going to have to kill tonight?_


	5. The Prelude

_You plan and prepare…and yet, stupid humans STILL manage to get in the way!_

Angelus growled from deep in his chest, while dragging the bodies of the two delinquents who had tried to steal what belonged to him.

When Angelus had rounded the corner, after hearing the humans' discussion, he saw that one of them had already made it into the driver's seat ( _Kenny, was it?_ ). His friend was at the passenger door, moving the Slayer's unconscious body to make room.

The vampire sprinted toward them, shrouded in darkness, excluding the occasional dim light posts, his game face on. He really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Get in, J-Dawg!" – Kenny, the driver, called to his friend, as he glanced down at the blonde whose head now lay in his lap – "Let's go!" Kenny played with the radio, looking for a fitting station to accompany the felonious act they were about to engage in.

Angelus lunged for the friend. _Jay Dog? I doubt that's the name that will go on your headstone._ Catching the human unawares, they went crashing to the ground, with Angelus' hands immediately at the guy's throat. They rolled partially under the truck, where the demon continued to strangle the life from him.

Barely hearing the commotion over the radio, Kenny's hand went to silence the volume.

"J? Jason? …Dude, you there?" Kenny's voice was a mixture of annoyance and worry. He heard muffled sounds, mostly undistinguishable with the engine running. The shuffling stopped, and it sounded like someone was making their way out from under the car.

Angelus popped into view, still in game face, and glared at the young man.

Kenny froze, waiting for the…thing, whatever it was, to make the first move. He slowly reached for the gear shift, preparing to make his getaway, when it spoke.

"For future reference, Kenny, if something looks too good to be true… it is."

With that, the car sprinted forward, with the vampire hanging onto the frame and the open door. Angelus quickly pulled himself onto the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him. He crooked his left arm over the seat top and placed his right hand on the Slayer's hip, holding her in place as Kenny's panicked driving threatened to throw her to the floor.

"So, where are we going, then, hmm? I don't think I need to tell you that I can't be out past dawn. Sensitive skin, and all," Angelus looked pointedly at the driver, who shook his head and swerved the truck onto a side street.

"N-n-n-n-no… no, n-n-no, man…"

The vampire noticed the Slayer begin to stir, groggily opening her eyes and letting out a soft moan. Angelus glanced at the direction they were headed in then looked back at the human.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're about to hit a dead end. Nice going, asshole."

As soon as Angelus had finished, Kenny saw the end of the alley coming toward them. He slammed on the brakes, which made the truck fishtail. Angelus remained calm, holding himself and the Slayer steady, as Kenny screamed. The truck came to a halt, inches before hitting the brick wall that lay in front of it. Buffy stiffened, her eyes fully open, and Kenny loosened his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head up, and suddenly had a knife at the now-conscious girl's throat. Kenny directed his threat at the beast in the passenger seat.

"S-s-swear to God, man, if you don't get out of the car, I'm going to c-cut her th-throat right here!" His words came out unevenly, laced with terror. Unable to maintain eye contact with the vampire, his eyes darted back and forth between the demon's eyes and his hands. Buffy felt a dull pain from her hair being pulled, which made her hiss.

Angelus sat, unfazed, staring at the young man.

"And what do you think I was going to do? Take her to a movie? She's my next meal. I'd like her blood to be fresh when I drain her. If that knife so much as pricks her skin, I'll do _much_ worse to you."

Kenny's face paled at what that could mean, as Angelus leaned forward. The demon snarled at him.

"Thanks for the wild ride. Now, weren't you about to leave?"

Kenny dropped the Slayer's head, leaving her to helplessly observe what was to unfold. He jumped out of the car and ran back down the alley, as fast as his legs would carry him. Angelus nimbly pulled the Slayer back toward him, then maneuvered his way across her body to sit in the driver's seat. He launched the truck into reverse, using the back window to guide the vehicle back toward where it came from.

Kenny's body came into the demon's view, colored red from the tail lights of the truck. Angelus felt that was an appropriate color scheme. The truck barely reacted, as its tailgate caught up to the running man. The back wheels ran him over, followed by the front. Angelus stopped the truck and switched off the lights which had illuminated the run-down Kenny. He jumped out of the truck to retrieve the body.

In the meantime, Buffy was able to roll onto her back, on the seat, and pulled her arms into her chest.

_What the hell…Where…_

She felt the truck lurch as something was thrown in the bed.

Angelus swiftly made his way back to the cab and, noticing the Slayer staring up at him, flashed her a sinister smile.

"Sorry about that, Buff. We'll be back on track here, after I make just one more stop."

Angelus drove them the short distance back to where he'd left the other body and threw that one in the bed of the truck, as well. _Hmmm…Four bodies in one dumpster? Might not be the best idea…_ He decided to make a small excursion to a nearby beach, where he would dump the bodies off a cliff and into the ocean. Although he knew the Slayer was staring at him, he acted as though he didn't notice.

"Angelus…" she struggled to whisper. "Why?"

He glanced down at her, then, taking note of her pleading eyes. _You'll be pleading with more than your eyes, after we've actually started our night, Slayer._

"Why what?" Angelus asked in an indifferent tone.

"Everything…"

He paused and contemplated that very question. Why, indeed? Why was he so infatuated with her? He couldn't stand anyone else hurting her. He needed to be the only one who showed her the meaning of pain. But why? Why just her? What made her so unique to him?

"Well," he began, stealing glances at her. "That's an excellent question. I think we should figure that out when we get back to our little apartment."

They pulled up alongside a cliff, and Angelus opened his door to get out.

"Now, don't you go anywhere, Buff. I'll be right back." Angelus laughed as he shut the door behind him. He hadn't seen the Slayer's face, but he knew that his comment must have had some kind of negative effect on her, considering she was too drugged to try an escape.

And now, here they were: the Slayer in the car and the vampire dragging two more dead bodies.

He made quick work of disposing of the thugs, and, when he got back to the truck, he saw that Buffy had once again passed out. With how much diazepam she'd ingested, he'd figured she would be in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night, due to her advanced healing capabilities. And by morning, she'd be dead… just not from the drugs.

Angelus made no move to touch her again, opting to concentrate on the next few steps of his plan. They made it back to the apartment complex hastily. The security vehicle was still there, but there were no signs of activity on the street. Angelus parked in the same location he had before. This time, however, he took the Slayer and a small black nylon zip-up bag that had been hidden in the glove box.

The Slayer was, once again, cradled in his strong arms, while the bag was held securely by its handles in his left hand. He made his way up to the apartment he'd chosen, on the topmost floor. Using his superior senses, he scanned each of the floors before ascending to the next. As he suspected, no squatters would be interrupting his night with the Slayer.

_And here we are, Slayer. 522 – home, at last._

When he'd originally picked this place out, he found it frustrating that there were no handles or locks on any of the doors. He'd had to install them himself. Finding he enjoyed customizing the apartment, he decided to sound-proof it, as well. The windows were blackened out with large drapes, which, had the apartment he'd chosen been facing the street, might have alerted someone to check it out. There was no furniture in any of the rooms, save for a mattress and chair in one of the two bedrooms. Angelus had nicked the simple plastic chair from some human's patio furniture set.

Closing the door behind them, and activating each of the locks he'd put into place, Angelus carried Buffy to the back bedroom. He laid her, prostrate, on the mattress, and then took the small black bag into the kitchen. Returning to the Slayer, he took advantage of her comatose state to secure a metal collar around her lovely neck. The chain attached to it connected to the wall. Most people would think that to be sufficient, but Angelus knew better. A Slayer could easily rip herself free from such restraints. Some concrete and extra soldering made sure she would remain in that room for as long as he wished.

Angelus sat back in the chair, watching her. Waiting.

The cold metal on her skin must have done the trick, because Angelus didn't have to wait long for her eyes to open. He'd noticed she'd moved her arms in the truck, which meant the diazepam might be wearing off. He was prepared with more vials in the little black bag, now sitting on the kitchen countertop. He shifted into her game face, so she would be sure of exactly what, not just who, held her captive.

The Slayer seemed more alert, this time, as she forced herself to sit up. She surveyed the room and narrowed her eyes at the vampire. One hand came up to the metal ring around her throat. She pulled at it, to no avail. Angelus chuckled at her expense. When she reached to grab him, he merely swatted her hand.

"Stop that," he snarled. His yellow eyes stared into hers, threatening her past his words.

Although her throat felt dry, Buffy felt as if some of whatever she'd been drugged with was weakening in her super-human system. She swallowed, and attempted to sound as collected and strong as possible.

"What…are you doing, Angelus? Where am I?"

Angelus leaned back in the plastic chair, pushing his heels off the floor and keeping his hands clasped in his lap. He subconsciously wished he'd stolen a rocking chair, instead.

"We're in LA, Buff. My turf. Well, yours, too, of course."

"Why am I…here?"

"To serve as my entertainment, before becoming my meal."

"What did you give me?"

"Diazepam, to keep you manageable. Works well, doesn't it? Considering what you've recently been through, you should feel pretty good, Slayer. I wasn't exactly sure about how your body would react to a high dose; to be honest, I'm still not sure. I'm thinking you'll feel it in waves, until your body is able to regain its full strength. We'll see."

Buffy's brow furrowed as she assimilated the information she'd been given. She looked at the chain that binded her to wall. There was a decent amount of slack. Not too much, though. Angelus had really gone all out for her, hadn't he? She placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes.

Angelus noticed the distressed movement, but waited for it to pass.

Suddenly, Buffy lunged for the vampire, pushing against his knees. Angelus was definitely caught by surprise, as his chair and his body toppled backward. He fell to his side and growled as he went to stand. Buffy knew she could do no more to him – that was as much as her strength would allow. But it had been somewhat satisfying to piss him off. A tiny retribution for everything he'd done to her tonight. She sat back and watched him pick the chair up and return it to where it was originally placed. He did not, however sit back down.

He knelt beside her and smacked her across the face. The force of it sent Buffy flying back onto the mattress. She lay there, exercising her jaw for a bit, wondering what would come next. Her eyes studied the ceiling, preferring to ignore the situation she was trapped in. She noticed a hook in the corner of the ceiling, almost right above her. Other than that, it was devoid of any decoration.

Angelus remained on the mattress with her, seated. His face molded back to its human form, and he adopted a calmer disposition, as though he was sorry for what he'd done.

"You know I love it that you put up a fight, Buff, but I would suggest you stop these acts of rebellion. Your stay here will be difficult enough, without you pissing me off and making things worse." He smiled at her, then frowned when he realized she wasn't looking at him. His tone became stricter. "The ring around your neck is a demotion. You're just a pet, now, Slayer, which makes _me_ your master. We're no longer on an even playing field. No stakes, no crossbows, no axes. No obnoxious Watcher or friends to swoop in and help you."

He stood up, then removed his jacket and placed it on the chair. He turned back to face her, but she had turned onto her side, facing the wall away from him. He shook his head and continued.

"No one will really miss you, anyway. Your mom can hardly stand having you in the house, you've caused so much trouble. Your Watcher only cares what the Council will think. If they assign him to another girl, she'll probably be more responsible than you, and he'll be thrilled. Your friends all have someone to love. They don't need a third wheel."

Angelus knelt down on the bed and slowly reached for her, stopping himself short of actually touching her.

"Isn't it ironic, then, that I'm probably the one being in this world that cares about what happens to you? More so than anyone in your life."

He seized her shoulder and forced her onto her back. His demon visage once again on his face, he smiled viciously at her. At the back of his mind, he filed away the fact that she was doing her best not to cry.

"I may not care for your well-being, granted, but how you die matters more to me than anyone else. You should know that, Slayer. Let it bring you comfort."

The vampire stood and left the room for a few minutes. Buffy thought about the cruel words and did her best to dismiss them. Her family and friends wouldn't brush off her disappearance so easily. But how long did she have? She needed to rely on herself to get out of this situation. She was sure the gang would meet her halfway.

When Angelus returned to the room, he paused at the doorway, taking in her submissive position on the mattress. Feeling suddenly awkward, he shifted the cardboard box in his hands and made his way back into the room that held Buffy. No, the Slayer. His nemesis.

Buffy looked over to him, as he dropped the box on the floor. She stared suspiciously at the box, wondering what its purpose was. Angelus opened it up and pulled out what looked like a whip that might have been a smaller version of one used by Indiana Jones. Her eyes opened wider, and Angelus smirked at her reaction.

Using more of her precious strength, she sat up and tried to scoot to the corner of the mattress, against the wall. Angelus reached back into the box and pulled out metal shackles. Buffy made a noise of protest, and Angelus looked toward her again, still in demon face. He motioned for her to look up, and Buffy did so. She saw, once again, the hook that had been fastened onto the ceiling; she cringed when she realized what it would be for.

She turned back to the vampire, when she heard him say, "Time to get started."


	6. Unwillingly Subdued

**Hello, all! Another oh-so-fun author's note.**

**Just to warn you, this chapter is the darkest one, yet. It has to get worse before it gets better.**

**Happy reading!**

**Jenn**

* * *

Angelus was now hanging from the ceiling, his hands gripping either end of the chain he'd fastened to the very hook he dangled from. The chair he used to reach the hook, however… that had been kicked out from under him by his rebellious "pet," who now looked up with utmost disdain at her captor. He glared back, then swung from the reinforced hook and let go of the manacles. He landed a safe distance away from the Slayer, and calmed himself by moving the chair to a place in the room where it wouldn't hamper the activities he had planned. Clearing his throat as a final means of curbing his anger, he addressed her.

"As you can see, the hook is quite strong. It can't be ripped out. Especially considering the state you're in."

He straightened out his shirt, then moved to grab her. Buffy had used most of her remaining energy to kick the chair, but she still raised her hands in an effort to block his advance. Undeterred, Angelus grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her up. She was extremely wobbly on her feet and was easily moved to the corner of the room, where the manacles hung suspended from the tried-and-true hook. He placed each of the Slayer's wrists in the constraints, making sure she was locked into place, then stepped back to observe any adjustments that should be made.

Standing in one place on the mattress, Buffy was barely able to shakingly stand. Angelus bent down and pulled the mattress from under her feet, as if it were a bathmat. She toppled forward and hit the corner of the walls. Angelus was pleased to see that, without the mattress adding height, she would be forced to hang from her wrists. He smiled at the thought of the bruises that were probably already forming.

Suspended from the ceiling, the Slayer made more noises of protest – music to his undead ears. The vampire, in game face, pulled the mattress to the opposite side of the room and leaned it against the wall.

Because the building had no electricity or running water, Angelus was forced to employ creative means of getting both. Battery-operated lanterns in each room provided confined, yet adequate, amounts of light. A cooler in the kitchen served a different purpose.

Angelus left the room that contained the Slayer and went back to the kitchen. He grabbed a vial of diazepam from the black bag and a bottle of water from the cooler. As he made his way back to the room that held his prisoner a thought occurred to him…he grabbed the lantern to provide additional light. Upon entering the room, he put the lit lantern on the mattress and placed the vial and water bottle on the floor nearby.

"So…" Angelus began, walking slowly toward the Slayer. "I wasn't going to be all that harsh to start out with, maybe 10 or so light lashings. Then you had to kick my chair out from under me. Cute, really cute. What happened to 'I don't think I have it in me to fight you'?" he said in a mocking tone.

"Please, Angelus," Buffy's voice was teemed with fright. "Please don't hurt me, anymore…"

"Oh, Buff, what do you expect?" Angelus chuckled. He slid up behind her, pressing his body into hers. He delicately placed his hands on her wrists and let them drag, feather soft, down her arms to rest on her waist. "You should be pleased that you're the center of attention. Cheerleader, pretty girl on campus, popular, a Homecoming Queen nominee…such accolades. Obviously, you can't stand to be anywhere outside of the limelight."

Buffy's voice hardened. "Is that why I'm here? Because I'm the girl you couldn't get when you were still Liam?"

A low growl escaped the vampire's throat. "Careful, Slayer…"

"Don't you want me to answer your question?"

Angelus paused, trying to remember what he'd asked. _It was probably rhetorical…_

"Of course," he answered. It wouldn't hurt to hear more, would it?

"I truly don't think I have it in me to fight you, Angelus," she reiterated. The vampire behind her was thankful she couldn't see the confused expression on his face. "Not until whatever you put in my drink is out of my system."

"Ah, so you do want to fight me, still? You're just waiting for the opportune moment?" Angelus nipped at her neck.

"Something like that," she said, sweetly. "Until then, I'm just looking to piss…you…OFF!"

And with a loud grunt, she kicked back between his legs. The heel of her shoe narrowly missed his most sensitive area, but it did connect with his pants. A loud riiiiiiiiiiiiip seemed to resonate within the room, which, to Buffy, almost made up for the lack of accuracy in aim.

Angelus bit back a loud yell, restricting most of the noise to his throat. He looked down at his slacks, torn jaggedly from mid-thigh to knee; a trail of his blood linked the tear to the path the heel had cut into his skin. _Shallow enough to not be a problem, but DAMMIT that stings!_ He backed away from the Slayer, huffing loudly and trying his hardest NOT to strangle the life out of her.

Still enraged, he ran up behind her and grabbed the back of her top. Pulling back on it, Buffy felt the material constrict her chest. She hissed lightly, as her heart raced.

"You really are a bitch, you know that, Slayer? Why are you pushing me? Who the hell do you think you are in this room? I'M the one with the control. And I won't share ANY of it with you."

He bit down on the material in his hand and tore the top off of her body. The goosebumps that appeared on her skin did nothing to rein in his rage. He ripped her strapless bra off, and felt minimal satisfaction at the hooks that flew across the room. Naked from the waist up, Buffy's eyes widened at her state of undress. The next thing she knew, the demon had placed a ball gag in her mouth, further adding to her humiliation. _Please let that stupid box be empty, now…_

Angelus grabbed the whip from its place on the floor and prepared to do his worst.

"This didn't have to be such an unpleasant experience, Slayer. But for being such an insubordinate bitch, you're about to be put in your place!"

And with that, the whip let out a loud *crack* as it struck Buffy's back. Her eyes immediately began to water, but her anger subdued most of the pain.

The second lash hit her with more force, and her legs jostled as a reflex.

The third cracked so hard, she bit down on the ball gag, which then made her jaw sore.

The fourth and fifth made it evident that the whipping she was being given was intended to draw blood.

The sixth seemed to land right on top of a previous lashing, cutting deeper into her skin. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and her throat felt raw from screaming into the gag.

By the seventh, her vision was getting blurry, the pain was so intense. Her body absolutely hung from the manacles, but the throbbing of her wrists was no match for what she felt every time the whip was brought down.

After the eighth, she feinted.

When the ninth garnished no reaction, Angelus recognized that the Slayer had succumbed to the pain. There was no point in giving her a tenth lash. He dropped the whip to the floor and made his way, with one of the lanterns, back to the kitchen to mend his own wound.

The first thing he did when he returned was remove her shoes. He should've known heels like that could be used as a weapon. He threw them into the cardboard box, along with the ball gag and the whip. Now that his anger had sufficiently abated, he morphed his face back to its "angelic" form. The room was reorganized to its original state, with the mattress on the floor in the corner, underneath the Slayer. He freed her from the manacles and laid her upon the mattress on her stomach. Her head rested on her cheek, giving the impression that she had only just fallen asleep…if you happened not to notice the gashes left behind on her bare back.

Confident that he would not have it kicked out from under him, Angelus once again mounted the chair to remove the manacles from the ceiling hook. He placed those in the box, as well as the remnants of her tank top and bra. The cardboard box was then returned to the other bedroom.

Angelus let out a sigh, after having cleaned everything up. Well, almost everything. He sat, once again, in the plastic chair and stared down at the girl's unconscious form. The whip marks made a pattern of red lines across her back. Although they had stopped bleeding, the wounds were still swollen and irritated. Her wrists were black and blue, but he was sure they would heal quickly. The metal collar that surrounded her fragile neck had a ring of red at either end, from her struggling against it. At least her cheek was no longer red from being slapped. _So beautiful…_

He continued to watch her for a while, before going back to the kitchen to finish his work.

Elsewhere in Sunnydale, Willow and Oz had long-since said their goodnights and were both in bed. Cordelia and Xander had moved their make-out session to a more private location, before saying goodbye and returning to their separate homes. Giles and Jenny had monitored the graveyards, but, after seeing no action, decided to create some for themselves back at his place.

Joyce had looked in on Buffy, only to, once again, not find her in her room. She closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration. Being a single mother was ridiculously difficult when her daughter refused to adhere to the curfew they had _both_ agreed upon. She shook her head as she closed the bedroom door on her daughter's room. What kind of punishment could she come up with to make her daughter respect her curfew? Would it even make a difference? Buffy would just find another way to sneak out, thinking her mother to be as ignorant as the rest of the adults in her life.

Joyce didn't, however, notice the envelope that had, earlier that night, sailed through the room and landed on her daughter's bed. It would wait patiently, until the morning, to be read. It stared up at the ceiling, the words in a familiar script:

_from Buffy_


	7. Morning Comes

**Yet *another* author's note! Geez, when will she stop with the ANs and get on with the writing?**

**I just felt like I had to reiterate the fact that I'm writing in *my* version of the Buffyverse. The Scoobies are still in high school, but they are all 18 (yay, seniors!), per my magical powers of rapidly aging fictional characters. There is no Dawn, and Joyce is still completely ignorant to her daughter's slaying duties. Jenny has not been killed by Angelus (and won't be, so don't look for that to happen). Willow is still straight (or thinks she is, anyway) and her goldfish were not strung up and placed in an envelope.**

**Also, there will be no Spike/Buffy action in this story (although I love the pairing, it doesn't fit here). Spike is in love with Dru and won't be chaining up our favorite slayer and offering to kill his sire in light of his shifted affections. Blah, blah-bitty, blah…**

**Interestingly enough, I had originally fashioned this story to only include Buffy, Angelus, Spike, and Dru. It was the reviews that I received that made me expand my focus. Although this story is complete, I still welcome your reviews!**

**Thanks! And now, time for me to shut up. Happy reading, all!**

**Jenn**

* * *

Buffy groggily opened her eyes, woken by…something…what was it? Her face had been turned to the wall, which provided no view of what was going on around her. She wasn't sure if she should move, after having received such a beating, so she remained still. A cold sensation on her back reminded her of what had woken her up in the first place. _What…_

Sitting on the bed alongside the Slayer, Angelus lightly applied the healing salve to each of her wounds. The cool gel caused goosebumps to breakout from where he touched her. One especially deep lash had not yet closed up. Closing his eyes, he lightly licked the blood that was exposed. He had no need to feed; her blood was, to him, as a piece of candy to a child.

To the Slayer, the feeling wasn't altogether unpleasant, as he heard her moan lightly. He hadn't noticed that she'd returned to consciousness.

"What are you doing?" The words came from her mouth as though she'd been stuck in a desert without water.

Angelus stopped sampling her blood and returned to healing her wounds.

"I'm just preparing you for the next stage, princess."

Buffy frowned to the wall, still making no effort to move from her current position.

"How many 'stages' are there?"

"As many as you can endure, Slayer. Then comes the finale."

"Can't we just skip to that, then?" Buffy groaned.

Now Angelus frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have been so rough. He didn't want her begging for death, already. Perhaps a new type of torture was needed.

Ignoring her question, he asked if she wanted some water.

Her head turned then, in a labored movement that finally brought her eyes to his. She looked weak, but more aware than she had in hours. He didn't know what time it was, but he was sure the drug had mostly worn off.

"Yes…please," was her simple answer.

Angelus picked the water bottle and vial off the floor and showed her both.

"This," he gestured to the vial in one hand, "is the drug that I had that imbecile put in your drink at the club. Same potency, same amount."

He placed it on the floor, as Buffy watched his movements, and unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. Placing the cap to the side for a moment, he emptied the contents of the vial into the water bottle. Buffy showed no clear expression on her face, but Angelus knew she must have been disappointed.

Holding the drugged water bottle up to her, he asked, "Do you _still_ want some water?"

The Slayer bit her lip and looked back to the wall. Angelus shrugged and placed the water on the floor. He was about to leave the room, when she spoke up.

"Can I have just a little bit of water, please?"

Angelus hadn't expected her to give in so quickly. He knew the need for water in humans was more pressing than food, but weren't they supposed to be able to last for, like, three days or something like that? Perhaps torture hadn't been factored into that analysis. He picked the water up from the floor and returned to her side. Her head was still facing the wall. Gently, he assisted her in moving her head back to face him.

When he tipped the water to her lips, most of it ran onto the mattress underneath her. _That won't do._ Rethinking the situation, he opted, instead, to lightly cradle her neck (and, of course, the collar around it) and bring her to a seated position. He was careful not to let the chain brush against her scars. Now in a better arrangement to drink, he held the water bottle to her lips, again.

She drank about three mouthfuls, but declined more. Her thirst momentarily quenched, her face relaxed into a calmer appearance. Angelus watched her, unsure what to do next. Still cradling her, he wasn't ready to answer her next question.

"If you're going to kill me, anyway, and there's nothing I can do about it, what are you waiting for?" Her eyes looked into his, searching, contemplating his motivations.

Angelus steeled his resolve and placed her back onto the mattress, her body once more on her stomach. He took his time doing so, delaying his answer. The Slayer seemed to wait patiently for a response.

"I didn't go to all this trouble, just to kill you. I think we have some unresolved…issues, shall we say, that need to be worked out, before I take your life." His voice was cold, apathetic. As he turned back toward the kitchen, he noticed he'd left the cap off the water bottle. He screwed it back on slowly, his back toward the Slayer, who wasn't done speaking.

"Issues?" she asked. She sounded exasperated. "I'm a Slayer, you're a vampire. We're in a life-and-death struggle." He heard the chain clanking upon itself, indicating movement. "What do you want, besides my death? A white flag? I'm already your prisoner. I'm not Drusilla, I won't go all mental."

Angelus smiled wryly at the mention of his childe's name. _Well, you're right about that. You're definitely not Dru. She was MUCH easier to deal with._

He left the water on the floor and walked back toward the mattress. The Slayer had sat up on her own, but the weight she had placed on her arms threatened to make her elbows buckle from the strain. He lightly grabbed both of her shoulders, to steady her. He then glanced over one shoulder to her back. The abrasions were healing quickly, he thought. The swelling had gone down, but now bruises framed the dark pink lines. He placed her upper body against his chest and blew cold air on her back. She gasped.

Having her naked chest against him, as well as the sound of her gasping at the intimate action he initiated, made Angelus suddenly want more. He hesitantly put his lips to her throat and slowly kissed his way up to her face. Her hair was disheveled, but beautiful, as it caressed his cheek. She smelled, tasted, looked, felt wonderful…

When his lips reached hers, he kissed her forcefully. Opening his eyes, he saw she was glaring back at him. _Not like I expected you to cooperate, Slayer. You have to make everything difficult for yourself._ His eyes narrowed and hers widened; he poured his anger and frustration into the kiss. She made a pained noise, then started to relent, enjoying being intimate with the body, if not the man, that she had once loved. Angelus read the change and pushed her off of him.

The Slayer landed on her back and cried out in pain. Angelus didn't miss her bare breasts bounce at the force of her fall. Her nipples were taut from the cold of the room, most likely. Not because she was truly feeling any pleasure. Angelus shook his head, grabbed his jacket from the chair, and threw it over her.

Mercifully, the additional diazepam she'd ingested must have taken effect. Her eyes became heavy, whilst staring at her captor. Soon, she was asleep. _Not for too long, this time, Buff,_ Angelus mused, sitting back in the chair. He ran his fingers alongside the cut that ran down his thigh. _Stupid high heels._ The recollection of the shoes that had caused him pain made him think back to the outfit she had been wearing…before he'd all but destroyed it.

He had enjoyed watching her dance, earlier that night. A kind of voyeuristic pleasure that had nothing to do with why he was taking her. It didn't look as though she had been dancing with any one guy in particular. She wouldn't refuse a dance with anyone, from what he observed, unless they got too close. _Why is that, Slayer? Not allowing anyone else access to your broken heart?_

Her breathing was steady, as Angelus studied her.

 _Do you miss…him, Slayer?_ His thoughts were full of contempt for Soul-Boy, the one who had inhabited his body. _Angel._ _What a pansy-ass name. Take my name, drop the ending, add a soul and some pixie dust…and you have a completely non-threatening pussy that wanders the earth like a would-be hero sans spandex._

His hands gripped the chair's armrests. He calmed down after watching the steady rise and fall of her chest under his jacket. His jacket. That now lay upon her breasts. Right against them.

Feeling a twinge of arousal at the thought, Angelus sat up quickly and left the room. He paced the kitchen, wishing he'd thought to bring some sort of clock into the apartment. What time was it, anyway? _Dammit!_ The makeshift curtains blacked out any outside light, he'd made sure of that.

He pulled back the material against the small living room window, making sure not to be anywhere near the sliver of light that might peek through. Seeing no sunlight, he pulled it back even farther, still out of range of any intrusive ray. Nope, nothing. He finally glanced out the window and noticed the faint beginnings of dawn in the distance. The sky lightened from midnight black to darker blues and purples.

_Must be around 5 or so._

He returned to the room, where the Slayer slept. She must have been more exhausted than he'd thought. He debated rousing her, but decided it would do no harm to his plan for her to sleep. Sitting back in the chair, he watched her until he was unable to keep his own eyes open.

The hours passed. Back in Sunnydale, Joyce woke up promptly at 7am. She paused at her daughter's door, on her way downstairs to the kitchen. Her hand closed on the handle for a moment, but she let go. Buffy was probably asleep, after coming in so late. Joyce would need coffee, before dealing with her disobedient daughter. She made her way down the stairs, breathing in the rich aroma that saturated the downstairs area.

Dressed in her nightgown, bathrobe, and slippers, she poured herself her first cup and contemplated what she would tell Buffy. _I'm not happy, young lady. You have NO RIGHT to just waltz right in here at all hours of the night. This is MY house, and you have to follow MY rules._ She rolled her eyes and took a sip from her oversized mug. _Yeah, this time, she'll definitely listen. Unlike all the other "talks" we've had._

Joyce glanced up in the direction of her daughter's room. _I'll give her one hour. If she's not down here by then, I'm just going to have to interrupt her precious beauty sleep._

Resolved, she left the kitchen and gracefully sat on the sofa. Her favorite morning show would easily make the time go by.

Willow had just woken up, as well, determined to get a head start on studying. She was about to call Buffy, to ask if she wanted to study for the exam they had on Monday, but stopped herself when she saw the time. She chuckled to herself, when she thought of the grumpy reaction she'd receive from her best friend if she called this early. _I should probably wait until, like, what? 10 o'clock?_

She fed her fish, then moseyed down to the kitchen to fix herself a bowl of cereal. _Mosey. I like that word. I'm a moseying kind of girl. I wonder if Oz thinks I mosey…_

Xander, Oz, and Cordelia were all still asleep in their own beds. On a subconscious level, they were probably extremely grateful it was only Saturday. They had a whole weekend with which they could procrastinate getting anything school-related done.

Giles and Jenny were talking in bed about which one of them would brave the cold kitchen floor to make breakfast for them both. Giving in, on purpose, Giles left the room and made his way toward the kitchen, voicing his protestation over the injustice with obvious jest. Jenny, meanwhile, snuggled deeper into the covers…a satisfied smile on her face.

At 8 o'clock, their lives began to change.


	8. Intermission

Joyce switched the television off and ascended the stairs. After three cups of coffee and an hour to prepare herself, she was ready to face Buffy…and whatever attitude accompanied her. The morning show had been entertaining enough, but every commercial reminded her of what she had yet to do.

Outside her daughter's door, Joyce knocked twice.

"Buffy," she called out firmly.

No answer.

She knocked again, calling her daughter's name more hesitantly. "Buffy?"

No answer.

"Well, young lady, if you're not going to answer your door, I'm just going to come in there…"

And as Joyce turned the handle and walked through the doorway, she already knew something was terribly wrong. She stopped mid-sentence and surveyed the undisturbed bed. The window was open, which frightened her. After closing the window, she turned around and saw the envelope that lay on the bed.

_from Buffy_

She picked it up and turned it over to open the envelope. Pulling out the letter that had been tucked inside, she swallowed before she read.

_This is harder than you know to write this. I have been so stressed out, you have no idea, mom. I can't live up to everyones expectations of me. I'm not a responsable person. I hate trying to be. I need a break, to figure out my life. I couldn't talk to you about it because you don't understand. And all of my friends have someone to talk to. I was in love, but now I just feel so empty. I don't know when I'll be home but I need my space. If you try to come look for me, I'll just run again. Leave me alone and I'll come home when I'm ready._

_I'm sorry…I know how much this will hurt you. Just give me time. Please tell the others that I'm sorry, too._

_Buffy_

Her hands shook, but she finished the note. She dropped it on the bed and called the one person who, she felt, knew Buffy even better than herself.

Willow had finished her breakfast and had gone back upstairs to study. The house phone rang, but Willow made no move to answer it. _Probably just another telemarketer._ Her father called up to her room from downstairs, announcing she, indeed, had a phone call. She smiled.

_Maybe Oz didn't forget we were studying today, after all!_

She picked up the phone by her bed, but it was not Oz on the other end.

"Willow, have you seen Buffy? Is she there with you, or do you know where she is?" Buffy's mom sounded both worried and angry.

 _Oh dear, I hope I don't get her in trouble…_ Willow thought.

"Um…The last time I saw her was last night. We all went to The Bronze, but I left early with Oz to get a good night's sleep. We have a test, you know, on Monday…."

Joyce interrupted, impatient. "Did anyone stay with her last night? Did she say she was going anywhere afterward?"

"Uh, I think Xander and Cordelia should have still been there. We all just kind of did our own thing. Buffy didn't mention anything about going anywhere after hanging out. I'm sorry Mrs. Summers…"

Joyce's voice broke, a little, at the lack of information. "Please do me a favor, Willow. If you hear anything from her, or about her, could you please let me know? And, if you speak to Buffy, could you please tell her to contact me?"

Willow's stomach flip-flopped, and she felt as though all of her blood was rushing to her head. She needed to get off the phone and make a call, herself.

"Yes, Mrs. Summers, of course. I'm sure she's just fine, wherever she is. She'll probably be back any minute."

Buffy's mother let out a sob, but quieted herself quickly before speaking again.

"Thank you, Willow, I appreciate that. I have to go….goodbye." And she hung up without waiting for Willow to mimic the send-off.

Willow, unbeknownst to Joyce, called Giles immediately.

On the other end, Giles had finished cleaning up, after he and Jenny shared a traditional English breakfast. He had already dressed for the day, and waited on Jenny, who occupied the shower. He sat back at the kitchen table and started to open the newspaper, when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

Willow's panicked voice answered.

"Giles! Something's wrong! Buffy didn't go home last night, and I think she's missing!" The words came out in one fell swoop of breath.

Giles put the newspaper down and focused on the call.

"Now, calm down, Willow, and tell me what, exactly, is going on."

Giles listened patiently as Willow explained the call she'd just had with Buffy's mother.

"I see," he said, when she'd finished. "I think, then, that it would be best to stop by Buffy's home and find out why Mrs. Summers is so worried."

"Should I call the others?"

"No, Willow, I think we should make sure, first, that something is wrong, before riling up everyone else. I'll visit there, shortly."

"And you'll call me back?"

"Pardon?"

"Giles! You'll call me back to let me know, right?"

"Oh…well, yes, of course. I'll call you afterward."

"Okay. Talk to you soon, then."

"Goodbye, Willow."

Giles replaced the phone in its cradle. He lifted his glasses and pinched his nose. Returning to his bedroom, Jenny greeted him with a kiss…wearing only a towel. She sauntered back toward the bed and motioned for him to follow. Giles sighed.

"I'm afraid I don't have the time right now, Jenny. I'm so sorry. I have to be leaving, you see, to go check on Buffy."

"Is everything okay, Rupert?" Jenny asked, with a concerned face.

Giles waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, I'm sure everything is quite alright. I just need to pay a visit." He started to exit, but turned at the door. "May I call upon you this evening?"

Jenny relaxed. "You may. Or shall I just wait for you to return?" Her eyes flirted unashamedly.

Giles produced a weak smile. His eyebrows raised, and he found himself looking at the floor.

"Well, erm, yes that would be…that would be…quite nice, actually." Jenny didn't miss that his face had become beet red.

Minutes later, Giles had left his residence (and Ms. Calendar, who remained inside of it), and driven to the Summers' home. Outside, Willow was sitting on the porch with Oz, looking up at Giles expectantly, as he approached.

"And how long have you been here? I shouldn't have to remind you that I said I would take care of this." Giles was more annoyed at the change in plans than at seeing the young couple. "Did you call anyone else, Willow?" he asked, looking at the boy werewolf.

Oz looked over at Willow, who answered for them both.

"Hey! Mrs. Summers called _me_ , remember?" Willow was agitated at the chiding she'd just received. She lightened up, and continued. "Besides, um, Oz and I were supposed to be studying today, anyway…so I, um, had to tell him. Right?"

The freckled teen looked perplexed, but answered correctly: "Riiiight…yeah."

Giles stared past them and walked to the front door.

"Oz…you did remember that we were going to have a study date, didn't you?" Willow frowned at her boyfriend.

"Yeah. Of course…" he answered, vaguely. Willow rolled her eyes and walked to where Giles was standing. Oz added a more determined "yeah!" before following both of them.

Joyce had been a little surprised to find the school librarian at her front door, along with Willow and her friend, but she let them in. The three could see she'd been crying. She showed Giles the note, which he studied, then brought them all to Buffy's room.

Giles cleared his throat. "And where, exactly, did you find this note?"

"Just there," Joyce said softly, gesturing toward her daughter's bed.

"So, forgive me, but, you opened the door, saw she wasn't here, and found the letter on her bed?"

"Yes," she answered. Her brow furrowed. She added, "Well, and I shut the window, too. It was open. But she always leaves it open. Kind of a bad habit…"

Giles pursed his lips and looked away, becoming more worried for his charge's safety.

"Did she take anything with her?" He stared at Buffy's closet door which, also, looked undisturbed.

"Not that I can tell, no," Joyce replied. She looked around the room, trying to visualize anything that might be missing. "I mean, her wallet, cell phone, and keys are gone… and some makeup, but other than that…everything else seems to be here. Why would she leave without taking anything with her? Who would she stay with? Besides you, of course, Willow."

 _Who, indeed,_ thought Giles. He forced himself to perk up in front of Buffy's mother. He didn't need her worrying any more than she already was. And he certainly couldn't have her interfering with what he had planned next. He adopted a sympathetic smile and a reassuring, warm voice.

"Well, Mrs. Summers, I'm sure Buffy is fine. She's one of the most resourceful young people I've ever met. Do keep us updated, will you? And we will spread the word to tell Buffy to call you and let you know she is safe." He gave her a chaste hug, then pulled away to look her in the eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mrs. Summers. Let me know if there is anything more I can do."

Joyce still didn't understand what the school librarian was doing in her home, worrying about her daughter, but she did know that Buffy sort of looked to him as a mentor. She was touched by his concern and granted him a sad smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Giles, I will."

Joyce ushered the trio to the door, gave Willow a hug, then said goodbye. She returned to her daughter's room and commenced with crying. She had already filed a missing persons report, but her fears were not assuaged. She doubted the police would do much to look for Buffy, seeing as she was no longer a minor and had left a note. What could happen in the next 48 hours to her poor daughter?

Meanwhile, Giles, Willow, and Oz stood by Giles' car. Talking in hushed voices, he told Willow to call Xander and have him meet them all at the school library. The note, the window, the intact room…Buffy hadn't run away. She was in trouble.

Back at the apartment in LA, Angelus had only just begun to stir. The chair was, by no means, comfortable, but he'd still fallen asleep with his hands clasped in his lap. He opened his eyes to find that _he_ was now the specimen being studied. The Slayer had put his jacket on and held it to her like a favorite blanket. Her eyes looked past his own, and she looked sad.

He was surprised, at first, and her expression unnerved him. He sneered at her, which snapped her out of her trance. She decided to look at the floor, particularly at the water, instead.

"Sleep well, princess?" Angelus asked, sitting up in the chair. He needed to stretch.

She didn't answer. Her gaze didn't falter, either.

He looked at the water bottle, then back at her, and stood to go grab it. He shook it in front of her.

"Would you like some more? Say please," he taunted her.

Buffy looked away. No way would she voluntarily take more of that drug.

Angelus smirked and dropped the water. The bottle bounced a few times, which made Buffy jump in surprise. With the cap still fastened on, the water eventually just came to a stop on its side, after rolling around the floor a bit.

"What _do_ you want, then? Hmmm?"

Buffy took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Nothing you're willing to give, Angelus."

The demon chuckled. "I'm not a mind reader, you know. A vague answer isn't going to help you, Slayer." He circled back to her, sitting next to her. "You must be stronger, now that most of the medication has worked its way through your system. I'm surprised I didn't wake up to the sounds of you struggling against your leash."

Buffy forced a smile and explained. "I thought about trying, but I was oh-so-worried that I might piss the warden off. Confident enough to let me try, now?" She might have been pushing it, but she felt it was worth a shot.

"By all means," Angelus approved. He laid flat on the mattress, stretching his lower back on a considerably more comfortable object. "Just don't hurt yourself…that's _my_ job."

Buffy rose, shaky, but stable enough, on her feet. She was barefoot and wearing only her skirt, underwear, and his jacket. The chain, itself, was rather heavy, but she had plenty of slack. That was odd… why…

"Why did you make the chain so long? Why didn't you just make it long enough to keep me in this room?" Buffy looked over at Angelus, who now had his hands behind his head. He looked over at her, leisurely.

"Do you really want to go to the bathroom where you sleep? Don't you humans have some clever catchphrase about that?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. She focused, instead, on the point where the chain was connected to the wall. Using all her strength, she pulled against the metal contraption. She walked up closer to it, standing on the mattress. Angelus shifted closer to the Slayer, amused by the antics…and the view.

Again, she pulled against the wall, trying to wrench herself free. The chain not only held...she hadn't made the slightest difference. Breathing hard at the physical exertion, she dropped the chain.

"Hmm…those must be new. Red and lacey. Very classy, Buff. But isn't it, like, a faux pas to wear red and green together when it's not Christmas? Or is that rule only for what's easily seen?"

Buffy looked down and saw that Angelus had been staring in between her legs, which she had spread to steady her stance on the mattress, and up her skirt.

Incensed, she grabbed the chain and had it around Angelus' throat before he could react to her initial movement. She straddled his chest, not caring that her skirt had ridden up to allow her room to do so. The red thong was most definitely in plain sight, now.

Buffy spoke through gritted teeth. "How does it feel, Angelus? It looks like you're enjoying your collar about as much as I enjoy mine!"

Angelus remained calm. He glanced over to one of his hands, pretending to inspect his nails for dirt.

"And what are you going to do now, Slayer? Strangle me to death? Brilliant…except…" he dropped his hand and glared back at her. "Except I don't have any breath to cut off, now, do I? Nice try, though."

Buffy smiled, confident in the current situation. "How about I just decapitate your sorry ass, instead?"

Angelus growled. He didn't want to call her bluff. Not when he was still unsure about how much strength she needed to behead him.

His hands went to her ass, caressing her round behind, skimming along the thong. He smiled back.

"I don't think you really want to," he said simply.

"What are you doing?" Buffy narrowed her eyes at the vampire.

"Oh, come on. It's not like we've never been intimate before, Buff," Angelus cooed.

" _WE_ never have, Angel- _us_ ," she spat back.

One of his hands strayed below her thong, determined to find her opening. Buffy's hold on the chain around his neck became tighter. She glared at him, daring him to go further.

Tired of the game, he sighed. He bucked his hips, and, at the same time, threw her ass over his head. Buffy held onto the chain as she soared over him, but let go with the impact of her back hitting the wall. She fell forward onto her stomach, where Angelus had just rolled away from. He grasped the chain, near her neck, and pulled her up by the collar. She whimpered a little, at the pain.

"I don't think you need my jacket anymore, pet. That was just me being nice. If you don't appreciate the gesture, I want it back!" He hissed the words, then jerked the jacket off her body. She quickly covered her chest with her arms and looked away.

He pushed her back down onto the mattress, and she fell with a loud bump on her rear end. The vampire put his jacket on. He had to push thoughts of her nakedness from his head.

"I'm sorry, Angelus." Her words sounded sincere. Apologetic.

Angelus growled, but did not answer. He walked to the opposite end of the room and leaned back against the wall.

Buffy looked as though she wanted to ask him something, but she held back.

"Stand up, Slayer."

Buffy hesitated, then quickly complied when she heard him growl. She had a hard time getting to her feet, while still shielding her breasts, but she managed. She faced the demon and gave him a quizzical look.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Why do you _insist_ on trying my patience?"

Buffy said nothing, but she did turn around.

Angelus examined her back with his sharp eyes. _Amazing…hardly a trace left from last night…_ The bruising was gone, and the gashes had healed into light pink scars that looked years old. He walked up to her and ran his fingers along the scars.

"Do they hurt?" he asked.

"Not physically," she muttered under her breath.

He pressed harder onto them. She didn't show any outward signs of pain. _'Not physically?' What's that supposed to mean?_

"What do you want, Slayer?" Angelus asked, again.

Buffy spoke softly, almost wistfully. "I've already answered that."

Angelus put his hands on her hips and felt her shudder. He whispered into her ear. "I've decided that I want a different answer." He spun her around to face him, loving the way her hair just fell about her face. "What do you think I'm unwilling to give you?"

"Let's start with… my freedom," Buffy challenged.

Angelus laughed as he answered. "Touché, Slayer, I most definitely _won't_ give you that!"

Buffy looked away, unsurprised. When Angelus stroked the sides of her waist with his thumbs, she blushed. Angelus saw and stopped laughing.

"What else?" he prodded.

"What else, what?" was her tired reply. The way he was touching her was too familiar…and disturbing.

"What else…do you think I'm unwilling to give you?"

Buffy paused before answering. Again, Angelus could tell she was hesitating to say what she really felt. What she really wanted. She looked up at him hopefully.

"Permission to use the bathroom?" she asked innocently.

Angelus growled low in his throat and his eyes narrowed. That wasn't what she was holding back, he knew it. No matter. They'd get there soon enough.

He escorted her, chain rattling as they walked, to the commode. Buffy frowned and looked to the demon.

"But…it doesn't work, does it? The water's not hooked up, right?"

Angelus sneered. "Please! If you humans have no shame in using those stupid contraptions you call 'port-a-potties,' then this should be no different. We're not going to be here _that_ much longer."

Buffy pouted, but dwelled upon the last words he'd spoken: _We're not going to be here_ that _much longer…_ What did that mean? Was he going to kill her soon, or were they just going to move locations? Judging by how easily he was able to kidnap her and bring her to LA, she didn't put it past him.

He left her to go to the bathroom, holding the door mostly closed. As far as the chain would allow, anyway. After she was finished, Angelus heard her rummaging through the cabinets. Suspicious, he poked his head inside to see what she was up to.

Buffy still sat on the porcelain throne, leaning awkwardly for something in the empty bathroom. She quickly covered her chest.

"You won't find any sort of makeshift weapon, so don't bother," he warned.

"Hello?! Toilet paper? I know it wasn't invented until well after you'd already crossed over into immortality, but some of us…" her words trailed off, as Angelus had already turned around and paused, thinking of something she could use. A mischievous thought ran through his head.

A minute later, he returned to the bathroom and threw the remnants of Buffy's black tank top onto the floor. He smirked evilly at her, as she snatched up the torn garment and begrudgingly used it. Angelus watched her. Buffy stood and faced away from him, so that she could use both hands to dress herself. He stared at the outline of her round breasts, peeking out from either side, then bit the inside of his cheek, watching her pull her panties up. One she had pulled her skirt back down and turned to face him (forearms, once again, shielding her breasts), the moment was gone, and he escorted her back to the room. She leaned against the wall and let out a loud sigh.

"So…what now?"

Angelus cocked an eyebrow at her gall. "Are you in such a hurry for me to continue your torture?"

"Of course not. I'm just bored. And I'm hungry. And, thanks to you, I'm also cold."

"Are you thirsty?" Angelus teased.

"No!" she snapped back.

She hated that he was enjoying himself. _Why is he toying with me?_ Buffy turned to face the opposite direction, away from him. She looked down at the chain at her feet. She kicked it, absentmindedly, and recoiled after stubbing her toe. When she looked over her shoulder at him, she noticed he'd left the room. She hadn't heard him leave.

His return was less stealthy, as he had brought the cardboard box back with him. He carried the box under one arm and dangled the ball gag on one of his fingers on the other. He smiled maliciously at her, loving the fear that flashed in her eyes.

Buffy shook, but prepared herself to fight him.

"No," she whispered.


	9. Intermezzo

Angelus watched the Slayer crouch into an attack position. She was no longer hindered by the uncompromising shoes she'd been wearing earlier, and her top priority had shifted from modesty to self-preservation.

Placing the box on the floor, Angelus rifled through it for the objects he wanted. The ball gag still hung from the finger on one hand, while the other grabbed the manacles.

As he rummaged through the box for another item, Buffy lunged from across the room. Apparently the distance did not match up with her walk to the bathroom, because Buffy found herself abruptly stopped like a dog in a cartoon. The metal collar dug into her neck, locking away her air supply, making it necessary for her to back up and allow herself slack.

The vampire had looked mildly surprised, then amused, at the assassination attempt. The Slayer now crouched on the floor, mere feet from her captor, breathing heavily. A thought quickly struck her, and she kicked her leg out to knock the enemy off his feet. Angelus, however, saw that realization in her eyes, and was able to grab for her leg before she could connect with him. He pulled sharply on her leg, which knocked her completely on her back, thrashing like a trapped fox.

Quick as a whip, he sailed over her prone body, manacles in one hand, and grabbed at the chain that confined her. Buffy's hands went to her throat, as she was dragged back toward the mattress and the hook in the ceiling. Her eyes were blurry, from lack of oxygen, and she could feel herself slipping into darkness. She felt the frighteningly familiar sensation of having cuffs placed on her wrists. Angelus hoisted her onto her feet, gripping her shoulders, then placed the chain of the manacles over the hook.

Having no more strain on her throat, Buffy gulped mouthfuls of precious air. She cried, frustrated at her current situation and her foiled attempt at getting back at the…thing she once loved. She truly pitied herself.

Her jailor stared at her. He hadn't expected such an emotional outburst. He had another strange urge… how it would feel to cradle her in his arms, and kiss her senseless. She was more beautiful, he felt, in her helplessness, than she had been all made-up at the club. Her eyes were closed, tears streaming down her cheeks, with her head down. She stood on the tips of her toes on the mattress, her beautiful body quivering and covered in goosebumps. The demon took his time drinking in her mostly-bare body, before mentally shaking himself out of his trance and going back to the toy box.

Buffy heard, rather than saw, him walk back to the corner of the box, to dig for what he'd originally been looking for. She didn't really want to know what it might be, at this point. When she heard nothing more, she slowly opened her eyes and looked up to an advancing Angelus. She didn't recognize the object he held in one of his hands, but she definitely knew first-hand what the ball gag in his other hand would be used for.

Dropping the foreign object onto the mattress, Angelus forced the ball gag into the Slayer's mouth, despite her protests and coughs. Once it was fastened, he picked the item back up off the cushion. Buffy tried to figure out what it was, before he used it on her. It looked like a long, silver, metal rod with a black handle at its base. It kind of looked like a cross between a magic wand and a light saber. He smiled, as he tilted her chin up to gaze into her eyes.

"You should consider yourself lucky, Buff. By now, you should already be dead. Fortunately for you, I decided to deviate from my original plan. You're too much fun to get rid of so quickly."

Buffy's eyes hardened as she glared back at him with hate. If the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy, then she definitely still had feelings for the evil vampire in front of her. Nothing that was strong enough, however, to prevent her from dusting him the very next chance she had. She thought of all the instances she'd had, fighting him, to finish him for good. She'd always hesitated, hoping their next meeting would be her reunion with her beloved Angel. But not after this. _Never again…_

Angelus noted the change in her eyes, and smirked viciously. "Still have some fight in you after all, Slayer. I like that. I was wondering when you'd come back from your pity party. Ready for round two?"

He held up in front of her face the item which she hadn't recognized. Waving it in front of her didn't help give her a clue as to what it could be, so she rolled her eyes away from the object. A part of her wanted to laugh, seeing him wave what looked like a magic wand for a robot. She stared at the wall, defiantly, instead.

Angelus' eyes narrowed at her dismissal of him. _That's no way for a pet to regard her master. You definitely need to be taught some respect._

She felt the cold metal rod touch the skin at her waist, but, before she could look down at the offending object, Buffy felt as if her whole body was both tingling and on fire. The electric jolt was quick, a mere example of its power. Angelus held it up again, looking ridiculously proud.

"It's my own design. I wish I'd been the one to invent these puppies, but I'm content enough to just borrow the brilliance of the device." He let the baton trail up and down her upper body, without triggering a shock. "And think of all the places it can go…" The baton traveled down the valley between her breasts, down her tight and tense abdomen, until it poked into the material of her skirt, at the meeting of her thighs.

Buffy whimpered quietly into the gag.

Getting Xander and Cordelia to willingly come back to their school on a Saturday proved to be more hassle than it was worth. Giles and Willow had briefed the rest of the Scoobies, and Ms. Calendar, on the sudden disappearance of Buffy. Xander yawned several times, and pulled out his cell phone.

"I hate to point out the obvious, but I'm going to, anyway. Buffy has a cell phone. We all have phones, too. Hasn't anyone thought to just _call her_?"

He flipped it open and began to dial. Willow looked at Giles, who leaned back against the bookshelf he was nearest to and folded his arms in annoyance. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but decided to hold her tongue. The rest of the group remained silent as Xander continued his phone call.

Holding it up to his ear, he closed it after only a matter of seconds. He cleared his throat and sat back down in the chair next to Cordelia.

"Yeah, her phone's dead."

"As you would have heard, had you been paying attention, I already stated that Joyce, myself, and Willow have ALL tried to call her repeatedly," chided Giles.

"But, it's Buffy the Vampire Slayer we're talking about here," Oz said. "It's not like one of us lesser beings is in trouble and in need of rescue. We're the support group. If she's in trouble, how in the world are we going to get her out of it?"

"By doing what we do," Willow chimed in.

"Yeah," agreed Xander. "She may be the brawn of the group, but the rest of us are, like…the head! No, the brain!"

"Some of us more than others," Giles muttered under his breath. The corners of Jenny's mouth twisted into a subtle smile, and she squeezed his shoulder lightly. He smiled back at her, pleased that his wise crack had a witness.

"So what is the 'brain' supposed to do? Huh?" Cordelia's comment was met with polite, if somewhat strained, silence; then the room filled with laughter at the double meaning. "What? What's so funny? I'm serious! Can't we just wait until Monday? I really need this weekend to be normal, for a change."

The laughter stopped and Giles spoke heatedly at the whiny girl. "This absolutely cannot wait! If Buffy's life is in danger, we need to intervene! I just hope, Cordelia, that if _you_ ever go missing, God forbid, that Buffy won't place your safe return on the bottom of her priority list!"

Ms. Calendar tactfully got things back on track. "What do you think our next step should be, Giles?"

"I think we need to find out when and where she was last seen."

"That would be The Bronze, last night," Xander supplied.

"Do you remember when she left?"

"Ah, no… I was kind of distracted." Xander's eyes darted over to Cordelia, who had the sense to look as cool as a cucumber.

"And you, Cordelia? Were you in a more lucid state?"

"I don't know what you just asked me, but no, I didn't see Buffy leave. But I know that she was talking to this hot college guy." Xander put on his best how-dare-you expression, but Cordelia ignored him. "I remember feeling sorry for her, because I knew he couldn't possibly be into her and that she was going to scare him away soon." Everyone in the room stared at her, as if trying to pick her brain for whatever useful information lurked within the cobwebs. "What? Anyway, then he introduced her to some guy he knew (definitely NOT as cute – see? I told you she didn't have a chance with the hottie), and I lost interest after that."

"And how did you know they were in college?"

"The hot guy was wearing his letters. Duh!"

"Letters?"

"His frat letters. He's a Beta Kap. Total hot fraternity at UCS. When I get into Tri Alpha, I'm, like, expected to date one." Xander glowered at her. "What? It's not like I have a _choice_ in the matter. If you…"

"Cordelia! Could you please focus?" the exasperated librarian exclaimed. "What is the name of the fraternity, and where can I find them?"

"Beta Kappa Lambda, and their house is on frat row. I've never been there; I don't know where it is, exactly. Probably near the school."

"I know where it is," Oz contributed. "My band played for one of their parties. It's right off University Road, at the corner of University and 10th."

"Ooooh! I could go with you! Like an ambassador or something!"

"No Cordelia," Giles sighed, "you've already been _enough_ of a help. Perhaps you and Xander should go home, for now. We may need you to check out The Bronze tonight." Cordelia smiled smugly and looked at Xander, who was still acting like a wounded puppy. He sullenly grabbed his keys and followed his on-and-off-again girlfriend out of the library toward the parking lot.

"Willow and Oz," Giles continued, "you should probably do the same. Ms. Calendar and I will go to the fraternity house to interview the members about their whereabouts last night."

"But that's not fair, Giles! Buffy is my best friend. I can't wait around with nothing to do!" Willow straightened her back and showed her determination to be of more help. "If you and Ms. Calendar get a project, than I get one, too!"

The foursome paused. But only for a beat.

"Don't you have an exam to study for?" Giles reminded her. Willow was about to refute his comment, but he continued his train of thought. "There may be nothing more we can do or find out before The Bronze opens again for the night. That's where Buffy was last seen in public, unless the young men in the fraternity know something more. Why don't you prepare for tonight, then?"

"Giles…" Willow persisted.

He cut her off her protestations. "Willow, if you cannot wait for tonight, then why don't you, in between studying with Oz, do some research to find out any recent unusual occurrences in the area that may be linked to Buffy's disappearance?"

Willow thought about the task for a moment, then smiled. "I can do that. Let's go, Oz."

With that, the redheads of the group left for Willow's house.

Giles looked toward Jenny. She could see the worry in his eyes. She knew that, if anything did happen to his charge, Giles would blame himself for the rest of his life.

"I'll drive," was all she said.

Across town, Spike and Drusilla were finally asleep in their lair. Drusilla had been oddly inconsolable when Angelus hadn't returned. She wasn't worried he was dead, but kept repeating that he'd "never come back, never be the same."

Spike had rocked her in his arms as she held onto her new doll and whispered soothing promises in her ear. _He'll be back. We'll be fine without him, anyway. We have each other. I'll take care of you. Would you like to go out tonight, when we wake up? We could look for Angelus. And we could pick up a quick snack at The Bronze. Would you like that? Would you like Spike to take his princess out on the town?_

_Yes, love, you can bring your dolly with you._

After that, she had finally given into sleep, wrapped in the blonde vampire's cold embrace.


	10. Taking Action

Jenny parked a cautious distance from the fraternity house. Her objections to parking closer revolved more around the stereotypes associated with college boys than on the idea that she and Giles would be recognized in the odd location. Giles hadn't spoken a word on the short drive, seeming to be lost in thought. She broke the silence with a gentle tone.

"Rupert, perhaps I should handle the questioning. They'll probably be more receptive to me, and then you can just chime in when you feel it's appropriate. Is that okay?"

"Um, yes," he replied. "That would be fine."

The adults exited the car and walked toward their destination: a poorly up-kept two-story house with the fraternity's letters on it. The front yard was empty, save for the occasional beer can. Giles rang the doorbell and then paused. He and Jenny exchanged a glance on the porch. Both of them were trying not to acknowledge the faint smell of vomit in the air.

After a couple of minutes had passed with no answer, Giles rang again.

Stirrings could be heard from inside, but no clear footsteps making their way toward the front door. Eschewing politeness, Giles leaned on the doorbell, while Jenny forcefully knocked.

"Al-RIGHT," a voice on the other side rang out. The door opened, and a sleepy six-foot Asian man stared out at the two instructors. "Um…can I help you?"

"Hello," Jenny smiled brightly. "A friend of ours was talking with one of your brothers last night, and now she's missing. I was just-"

"Are we in trouble, or something?" the frat member interrupted.

"Not at all," Jenny dismissed. The college boy stared out at them with mistrust. "We're just worried about our friend, and we'd appreciate it if any of you could point us in the right direction."

"Young man," Giles interjected. "We have no quarrel with you, we'd just like to ask your fraternity members a few questions and then be on our way."

"Are you a cop?" asked a still-wary frat boy.

Giles looked affronted. "I'm a librarian, actually."

The young man snickered at that. "What's your friend's name? Maybe she's already here."

"Buffy," Jenny said, plainly.

More snickering. The college man called out loudly to anyone and everyone. "IS THERE SOMEONE NAMED BUFFY HERE?"

Groans and smart-aleck remarks peppered into the air from all parts of the house.

"Guess not. Sorry."

Giles lost all patience at this point. "If we could just question a few of your young men that were out at The Bronze last night, we'll get the information we need and be on our way. Otherwise, I may have to make a trip to the Dean's office. We're good friends, you know. I'm not sure this fraternity would survive the investigation that would come forth from our conversation, if you get my meaning." He stared pointedly at the now exasperated Asian.

"Just chill, man. We can take care of this now." He stepped away from the doorway to allow the newcomers in. "Sorry 'bout the mess…" he mumbled as they passed.

Jenny and Giles crossed the threshold and cautiously made their way through the house to what seemed to pass as the dining room. A table, chipped from years of misuse, stood at the center of the room with six battered and mismatched chairs around it. Jenny gingerly sat in a plastic patio chair, while Giles took the wooden bar stool that was next to her. As she perched on the edge of her seat, Jenny felt she needed to take over the conversation.

"We really don't want to be any trouble. We'll just ask our questions and be on our way. Could we speak to the men who were at The Bronze last night? Were you there?"

The tall boy had leaned against a wall adjacent to them. He shook his head. "I wasn't. A couple of us stayed behind to make sure the pledges were cleaning. Hold on a sec."

He left the room and mumblings were heard somewhere deeper into the house. He returned shortly after with two frat boys. They were both older, probably seniors on their victory laps, with muscular bodies. They were both white and both slightly shorter than their Asian frat brother. One had dusty blonde hair that curled in a messy pile on top of his head. The other had dark hair that had been buzz-cut closely to his scalp. They appeared to be tired, but guarded. Jenny stuck out her hand.

"Hello, my name's Ms. Calendar, but you can call me Jenny. And this is my friend and colleague, Mr. Giles."

"Shawn," the sandy blonde said, as he took first Jenny's then Giles' hand.

"I'm Dave," the buzz-cut man added, also shaking their hands.

"I'm out," the doorkeeper quipped, and left the room to find breakfast. Or lunch, rather, as it was already one in the afternoon.

"So…" Jenny began. "The two of you were at The Bronze last night?"

Shawn looked at Dave before answering affirmatively.

"Did you by any chance see our friend there? She's a student at Sunnydale High School. Her name is Buffy Summers."

"We're not into jail-bait," Dave answered. Shawn forced a smile to hide a guilty expression.

Giles went to speak, but Jenny claimed the space first. "No, no… She's 18. And we're not cops. We just want to know she's okay. Did either of you see her?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"Was it just the two of you, or are there more of you that were there last night?"

Shawn looked at Dave, trying to recall the night's events. "Geez, Dave, who all went last night? It was you, me, Mike B, Kev, Josh, Ash…" he let the sentence drop as his memory faltered. "Was Mikey G with us?"

"No, he stayed here with Ken," Dave supplied. "And Joey met us there, of course."

Shawn groaned. "Yeah, I remember. What a douche."

"Who's Joey?" Jenny innocently asked.

Dave answered. "Joey Taccino. He's a Beta Kap alumnus who won't leave us alone. He can't let college go. He's our loser version of Van Wilder." Shawn laughed in admiration of the comparison.

"Well, can we speak to any of the others that were out? Mike? Josh?" Jenny persisted.

Dave nodded at Shawn, who left the room to find their buddies. Dave looked intently at the two strangers. Jenny and Giles looked uncomfortably around the room, while the sounds of accumulating footsteps and voices filled the house. After five or so minutes, Shawn returned with three of his brothers.

"Are we good?" Shawn asked Jenny. She hesitated, looking at Giles. Shawn took it to mean he was misunderstood. "Can I _go_ now? I have major LSAT studying to do." The rest of the guys leaned against the wall, except for Dave, who stood away from the others and the wall.

"Erm… yes. Thank you for your time."

Dave used the space of Shawn's departure from the room to introduce his frat brothers. "This is Josh." Josh, the nearest frat member to Dave, nodded once. "That's Kevin." Dave pointed to the lanky black man who stood next to Josh. Kevin also nodded once. "And that's Ash." Ash was an attractive mix of Irish and Mexican. He nodded, as well, but added a "hey" greeting.

Once introductions had been done all around, the questioning began. Dave seemed to act as the subtle moderator, controlling how much his brothers disclosed. The frat members were helpful, but not extremely forth-coming.

"So, none of you saw our friend?" Jenny asked, dismal at the lack of useful information they were receiving.

"The Bronze is packed on the weekends. There were a lot of girls there. Probably half of them match your description of her," Dave replied. Shawn may have been the one studying for the LSATs, but it was clear that Dave belonged in law school.

Giles sighed. "Yes, well, was there anyone else in your group?"

Dave looked at the three brothers. "Where's Mike B?"

Ash shrugged. "Probably with Sarah."

"Is Sarah his girlfriend?" Jenny inquired.

Ash leered at her. "Unfortunately…" he started.

"Yes," Dave finished. "He's probably with her. And there's no way he would have seen or talked to your friend without getting in a shitload of trouble. In fact, I don't think he ended up coming in with us last night. She called him just as we got there, and I never noticed him come in. He probably skipped out on us and met up with her, somewhere."

"Okay," Jenny smiled. "And what about this Joey Tack…er, Tacano… Where can we find him?"

All four frat boys smirked. "Joey Taccino. Gym," Kevin answered. "All day, every Saturday. I'll bet he spends only an hour workin' out. The rest of the time, he's either pissin' off the employees with his braggin' or scarin' off the ladies he's been droolin' over."

"The gym at the University?" Giles wondered.

"HA! He wishes." The young men all seemed to be in agreement. "Naw, he goes to Gould's on Lark Ave."

"Well, thank you all for your time. Jenny and I will take our leave."

"No problem," Dave spoke up. His eyes still studied everything about them. "Hope you find your friend."

And with that, Giles and Jenny were escorted to the door. Dave shut the door as soon as they'd reached the porch.

They spoke in hushed tones as they made their way back to the car.

"Do you think they told us everything they know?" Jenny asked.

"Probably not everything, no," Giles pondered. "But I don't think they were withholding any information about Buffy that would've been useful to us. Buffy could easily overpower any of them, anyway. They're no threat to her."

"Unless they drugged her, or were able to knock her out."

"I honestly don't think they would go to the trouble. Our best bet is this Joey, it sounds like. If he has nothing to tell us, we'll just have to wait until The Bronze opens tonight."

"Do you really know one of the Deans at UC Sunnyvale?" Jenny sounded skeptical.

Giles kept his pace, as he answered her. "Technically, yes, I do. But the man's a bloody idiot who I wouldn't converse with just to get a group of miscreants in trouble." Jenny smiled at his bluff. She had never pictured Rupert with a poker face.

Across town, Willow searched with gusto for any suspicious activity in the area of The Bronze. Her Googling was getting her nowhere, it seemed, as Oz tapped the glass of her fish tank.

"Stop it. They don't like rude werewolves that pound on their habitats," Willow lightly teased. Oz grinned and fell back onto her bed.

"Anything?"

"No, but the Sunnydale News website may have been updated. I'll check." Willow typed, clicked, and scanned, before slumping back in her chair. She sighed. "Nope. Nothing."

"What about surrounding areas? Like L.A.? She may not still be in Sunnydale."

"I hadn't thought of that! Thanks!"

Oz beamed at his girlfriend. "No prob, babe." He put his hands behind his head on her pillow and shut his eyes. After a few moments, just as he was nodding off from boredom, Willow's excitement pulled him back to full consciousness.

"Here! There were two bodies found in a dumpster in Los Angeles last night!"

"Um… it _is_ L.A. Not Montana."

"Oz! Both of the bodies' necks were snapped! Let's see… They were security guards for a local construction company… They never reported in at the end of their shift… One was a retired police officer… He had his gun on him, and it had been fired twice… He also had a very bloody neck. Neck! It's a vampire!"

Oz stared up at the ceiling, as he answered. "Not necessarily. It could've been anything."

"It was a _vampire_ , Oz!"

"If it was a vampire, then why weren't they drained? No vampire would let that much blood go to waste," he pointed out.

Willow paused, stumped at the new revelation. "Well, it's still a 'recent unusual occurrence,' so I'm printing out the article."

The redheaded boy smiled at the ceiling and closed his eyes. _That's my girl_.

 _That's my girl_ , Angelus thought to himself, as he watched the Slayer tremble from the last shock. The demon threw his toy back into the cardboard box, after having used it for hours of fun. He'd taken his time with her, probing the electrically-charged wand onto her lovely body. He also had made sure to give her several breaks, afraid that she might pass out and ruin his day.

Being as old as he was, he didn't require a full day's sleep, but he still needed more rest. He removed the ball gag from the Slayer's mouth. She exercised her sore jaw delicately, breathing hoarsely from screaming into the torturous contraption. Angelus held the drugged water up to her, and she knew she had no choice but to drink. Dehydration would be worse than the drug. She nodded her assent to take the water willingly, and he lifted the bottle to her lips to drink. She drank with a thirst she'd never experienced before and her torturer watched her with lust as she drank greedily, the water sometimes splashing down her chin, throat, and breasts as she tried to console her body.

When she'd finished, Angelus placed the water bottle in the kitchen before returning to her side. He pulled the black fabric from one of the windows, while he stood a safe distance from where the sunlight would peek in. Judging from where the sunlight hit the room and its placement in the sky, he estimated it was early in the afternoon. One o'clock or two. Somewhere around there. He had about six or so hours until the sun set.

Buffy was coherent, but weak from the pain. Her knees buckled underneath her, refusing to give aid to her poor wrists that had cuts on them from where the manacles dug into her skin. He gently lifted her body up, to release the chain from the ceiling hook.

Laying her onto the mattress beneath them, she stared up at him with the most wounded expression he'd ever seen.

"Wh-Why?" she whispered through protesting vocal chords. " _Why_?"

Angelus shrugged. "Because I loathe what you turned me into."

Her eyes became distant, unfocused, as he removed the manacles and placed them in the box. She watched his silhouette take the box back into the other room. When he returned he stood above her, as though he was contemplating what to do next. Whatever decision he made was lost on her, as she finally drifted into unconsciousness.

As he stood there, the dark vampire suddenly realized how badly he needed to sleep. He watched as her breathing lulled into a sluggish cycle. Not knowing why he found that to be so comforting, he knelt next to her. She still smelled faintly of the perfume she'd been wearing last night, although its scent was mostly overtaken by the smell of her blood. He inhaled her deeply. He'd never get tired of her scent. Of her blood.

Knowing she'd have no idea what was going on, he spooned her limp form, drawing her as close to him as anatomically possible. Her luscious curves found refuge in his larger form, as he pressed himself into her. Overcome by the urge to do more, he let his hand fondle her breast, as he ran his tongue lightly over her neck. If the Slayer had any idea of what was going on, she was making no gestures acknowledging his ministrations.

He took his time, just as he'd done with their torture session, to touch and kiss her as he'd been longing to do. When his hand finally found its way to her crevice, he was surprised to feel wetness in her folds. Then he remembered that a human body can be turned on to arousal in even the most bizarre and unpleasant circumstances. He halted his exploration of her body and moved his hand back into position around her waist. Pulling her close, once again, his head was filled with the strangest ideas.

Her loving him. Him. Not Angel. Angelus. Adoring his demon self. Him making passionate, rough love with the Slayer. Hearing her whisper his demonic name, like she did in the club last night. Drinking from her slowly as she moaned before, after, and during sex. Him turning her. The Slayer. Buffy the Vampire-Slaying Vampire. His forever.

He nuzzled her neck as he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

_I hate that I can't be without you, Slayer… Buffy._

When Giles and Jenny arrived at the gym, they stuck out like sore thumbs. Not that they were going to be working out, anyway, but they hadn't intended to look so conspicuous. As they neared the entrance, Giles' phone rang. He and Jenny stepped away from the door as two women carrying yoga mats made their way inside.

"Hello?"

"Giles! It's Willow. I think I may have found something. There were two bodies, human bodies, found in a dumpster in a construction site in L.A. Their necks were broken, and one of them had blood on their neck, too!"

Giles looked at Jenny, who he could tell was concerned. He mouthed the word "Willow."

"I see. Well, it is L.A. Not exactly the safest place in America. Anything closer to home?"

Willow paused. Giles wondered what response she had been expecting.

"Willow?"

"No. Nothing in Sunnydale, so far." She sighed into the phone. "I'll keep looking."

"Very well."

"Have you two found anything else out?"

"No, Willow, I'm afraid we haven't. What time does The Bronze open tonight?"

"Seven, but there probably won't be a large crowd until ten or so. What time are you thinking we should meet?"

"Let's meet there at eight. Call Xander and Cordelia to let them know."

"Okay. Will do. Oh, and Giles? Try to blend in. No one will talk to you if you're wearing a suit."

Jenny smiled, giving away the fact that she'd probably heard the majority of the conversation. Either she had exceptional hearing, or he had the volume turned up too loud on his phone.

"Yes, well, thank you for that. We'll see you at eight tonight."

He hung up the phone and deposited it back into the pocket he kept it in. Jenny opened her mouth to tease him, but he anticipated it and cut in.

"Let's go find this 'Joey,' then."

Up until that moment, the two of them had forgotten that a physical description would be helpful in finding the man they were looking for. There were people of all ages at the various machines. A yoga class was beginning in one of the aerobic rooms. A child no older than seven or eight crossed in front of them to get to the water fountain nearby. He was wearing a weightlifting belt.

"How are we going to find him, Giles?"

"Um… well…" Giles stalled to find an answer. "I guess we'll have to ask around for him."

Jenny walked straight up to the check-in counter, fearlessly.

"Excuse me," her sheepish tone made her sound both apologetic and sweet. Impossible not to answer such a darling woman. "By any chance, do you know a Joey Tack… Tacano?"

The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes. "It's Taccino. If I were you, I'd avoid him like the plague." But she pointed toward the cardio machines.

They thanked the girl and went to find him.

"Um, excuse me!" The gym employee stopped them before they could head over to the area. "If you want to work out, you'll need to pay a visitor's fee. Or if you'd like a tour of the facility, you can wait here while I arrange it." Her voice was pleasant but firm. No wandering around unsupervised allowed.

"We're with Calendar & Giles, a law firm representing the estate of one of his relatives who recently passed away. We've tried getting a hold of Mr. Tack-Taccino, but he hasn't responded. We just want the matter of his relative's will closed. Could you please bring him to us, if we can't go to him?" Jenny's lie came out smooth as silk and sweet as honey.

The worker nodded and ran to fetch the nuisance. Giles and Jenny watched as she approached a very artificially-looking strong man who stood at about 5'8" wearing an old fraternity shirt with holes in it. He had been chatting up (bothering) a rather annoyed girl on a treadmill. He leaned against her machine while she looked ahead, over him. When the worker approached him, he looked pleased, then serious as she relayed the news. He left the treadmill, much to the delight of the young woman using it, who picked up her gait in a sudden burst of energy.

He walked with Jenny and Giles outside. "So, what's this I hear about a will? How much do I get?"

Jenny looked shocked. "What are you talking about? We just wondered if you met our friend last night. We haven't heard from her and we want to know that she's alright."

Joey looked dubious. "Bethany told me you guys were from some law firm."

Jenny kept up the charade. "I have no idea why she would lie to you, but we would greatly appreciate it if you would just answer a few questions, so we can be on our way and you on yours."

Giles stayed silent through the exchange, studying the man's body language. Joey fidgeted a lot, like he was restless standing in one position for too long. He had to be at least 28. No wonder the fraternity brothers at the house wanted him to move on. He seemed to be remorseful that he wouldn't be receiving any money, more so than for the made-up deceased relative that would have left them something in his or her will.

"Okay. What do you want?"

Jenny continued. "Were you at The Bronze last night?"

"Yeah… I usually go there to hang with my bros. Pick up chicks, and stuff."

"Did you by any chance meet or talk to a girl named Buffy?"

"Buffy? No."

"Are you sure?"

" That's a weird name. I'd remember it. Do you go to The Bronze, Miss…"

"Calendar. And no, I don't." Joey's eyes took inventory of Jenny's body with appreciation. She took a step back, uncomfortable, and Giles stepped in.

"Buffy is about 5'2" with long blonde, highlighted hair that's usually done up, and hazel eyes. She's petite but well-toned. Does that fit the description of anyone you saw last night?"

Joey frowned. "Yeah, but the girl I was dancing with was named Lindsay. She was a hottie. I wish I'd gotten her number…" Joey trailed off as he reminisced in his own mind.

"How did you meet her? Was she alone?"

"Uh, no, my bro Mike introduced us. Mike has a girlfriend, so he helped me out."Joey grinned stupidly. "She was totally wasted, so I took her on the dance floor. We would've gone back to my pad, if that asshole hadn't pushed me down."

Giles contained his fury, as Jenny watched them both. "Who pushed you?"

"Some douche, I don't know. I've never seen him before. Lindsay, er, Buffy and I were totally hitting it off, and he grabs her from me and pushes me down. I should've kicked his ass, man!"

Jenny spoke up. "Why didn't you? You look like a strong guy. Couldn't you have taken him?"

Joey's face turned red and his left eye twitched. "Yeah! Of course! I just… I, you know, there were plenty of other chicks to choose from. I was just doing him a favor. Okay?"

"What did he look like?"

"Damn, I don't know. It was dark, I was drunk and pissed. I don't check out guys." Joey's fear was poorly masked, and the two instructors could tell he wasn't telling them everything. "Listen, I need to get back in there to finish my workout. Hope I helped."

"There's nothing more you can tell us?"

"Nope, sorry."

Giles looked at Jenny, and they shared a look that said "he's hopeless, and we're not getting anything more out of him without torture."

"Well, Joey, thank you for your time. Will you be at The Bronze tonight?" Giles asked.

"Maybe," Joey shrugged. "My bros might be having a kegger tonight, so I may just kick it at the house."

Jenny lied with ease. "Actually we were just by there. They gave us your name, thinking you'd be able to help, since you're their top guy. They also said to mention that they'd be at The Bronze between nine and ten. I guess their pledges have more cleaning to do, or something."

Joey was delighted. The kid that was picked first for kickball. "Cool, yeah, I know how that is. Yeah, I'll be there later tonight, then."

"If you see either Buffy or the guy she was with, could you let us know, please? We'll be there meeting some friends."

"Yeah, okay." The retired frat boy turned to back inside the gym. His home away from home. As he opened the door, he glanced back at the two older adults.

"Hey! Can I get Buffy's number from you?"


	11. Social Hour

**Author's note: Joss Whedon _et al_ didn't really try to stay consistent, when it came to the timeline of a person changing into a vampire. Sometimes they emerged from their graves, with enough time for the family/friends to plan a funeral, and sometimes the person changed within hours of their death. I am going to be equally liberal with the idea of *how* vampires can come to be.**

**This is not cannon. It's fan fiction. :)**

**Jenn**

* * *

Her dreams were more delusional than usual. In her drug- and exhaustion-induced sleep, Buffy felt Angelus' arms around her. He held onto her tightly, not to deprive her of breath, but to prevent her from leaving his side. The feeling wasn't altogether unpleasant.

Dark visions plagued her thoughts: Angelus not relinquishing his obsessive hold on her…killing those she loved….him turning her…

And equally dark: her being forcefully separated from him for all eternity…him being sent, not to hell, but to a very permanent death at the point of a wooden stake…the memory of him slipping from her mind, as water through a sieve…

The demon beside her slept soundly. Cold as the grave.

Hours passed by, as night crept up on the California coast.

Since they'd found the bodies of the security employees, the police had launched a full-scale investigation in the area. Seeing as one of the men had been a well-respected police officer in his time, nothing less was expected.

Short brown hairs, most likely from a male head, had been found on the ground, near where the security company vehicle was parked. Oddly enough, the DNA extracted from it was not a match to anyone in the system. To further complicate things, the DNA wasn't human…exactly. That being a dead end, the police began to scour the streets to find witnesses.

One homeless man in the area hadn't seen anything, but swore that he and everyone else in the area kept their distance from the apartment building because it was bad luck. The interviewing officer left the "informant," with a shake of his head.

The apartment complex was searched with little effort or hope of finding any leads. The majority of the investigators were in consensus that the perpetrator was somewhere on the streets, not lodging in an unfinished building.

While the police officers hunted the streets, the demon who'd snapped the men's necks pulled the only threat to his immortality closer to his not-so-fragile body.

Back in Sunnydale, Willow's brow furrowed in worry over where her friend could possibly be. She looked over the article she'd printed out on the fallen security guards in L.A., and marked the parts she thought to be important with her yellow highlighter. Oz had only been able to tear his girlfriend away from her search when he'd mentioned the exam they'd neglected to study for. The two of them poured over their chemistry books for two and a half hours, and then Willow was immediately on the computer, again.

She'd printed two more articles, which had already been highlighted for Giles' perusal. One was the death of a homeless man that had occurred in the same area as where the security guards had been found. The deceased, a John Grimaud, had been a Viet Nam vet, and had died from "suspicious circumstances." His body, also, had been discovered in a local dumpster, and it had happened within the past month. With no family to demand retribution, or any good leads to take off on, the investigation had been relegated to the general hotline for tips.

The last of the three articles covered a robbery that had transpired at a veterinary office outside of Sunnydale. The strange part about it was that the diazepam had not been ordered by anyone on staff, seeming to arrive at their location mistakenly. When one of the office personnel had tried to refute the invoice from the company that had sent it to them, she was told the order had been placed by a doctor that no longer worked at that facility. Both parties agreed on returning the medication and voiding the invoice. The pharmaceutical company would send a courier to pick up the box the next day.

Although the meds were locked in the supervisor's office, someone had been able to break through all of their security measures to take just that one item. The police and veterinary office supervisor had responded to the alarm to find a well-preserved building, minus the now-broken locks. It was as if the perpetrator had walked in to find what he or she was looking for, and then just walked out. No fingerprints were found, and police were unable to figure out how the doors had been broken through.

With no viable leads to pursue, the investigation was left unsolved, as more important crimes took precedent. A brief description of diazepam's effects and uses followed, along with a phone number for anyone with information on the missing product.

It was now 6 o'clock.

Cordelia placed a new set of clips into her hair, preparing to do some pre-party shopping, before meeting up with the others at The Bronze.

Xander finished stirring the macaroni and cheese he'd just finished making for a pre-dinner snack. The limited menu at The Bronze wouldn't be enough to curb his hunger.

Willow and Oz, finding no more information online, went their separate ways. Willow completed her week's chores. Oz played Guitar Hero.

Giles and Jenny went out to dinner. They discussed the reasons for why Buffy would use a fake name, but settled on the idea that she was probably trying to be untraceable to her unwanted suitors.

The sun, meanwhile, continued its descent.

Angelus' grip on the Slayer had loosened, over time, but, as sunset drew near, the vampire stirred. Remembering where he was, he gently rolled the Slayer from her side to her back.

_Beautiful. Deadly. Mine._

He stroked her face lightly, whilst a feeling of disgust for the tender act washed over him. _She should be dead by now. What am I waiting for? She's of no use to me, now…_

As he gazed at her neck, one more "use" came to mind.

He lightly licked her jugular vein, becoming hard at the thought of sinking his teeth into her neck and finally having his fill of her precious blood. Moaning as he did so, he was caught off-guard when he heard her softly moan, as well.

The Slayer was roused from sleep, from the attention she was receiving. Her mind was still hazy from the drug. That seemed to justify what happened next.

Angelus began to pull away, but Buffy grabbed at his shirt and pulled him back toward her, craning her neck in encouragement of more affection. She pushed her bare chest against his, and the demon actually felt a sudden panic at what might happen next. He wanted her. He shouldn't. He wouldn't. That would go against everything he'd planned.

A new wave of feral hunger swept over him, not for the Slayer's blood, but for her body. Her writhing against him didn't abate his desire. He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her roughly. She moaned into his mouth, reciprocating his ministrations. As she became more coherent, however, the mood abruptly changed.

"Angelus?" she whispered.

The vampire stared into her confused eyes with his own hooded orbs. The thrall was over…possibly. He smiled lecherously at her, then went in to resume the kiss.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was back to its normal volume.

Yes, the thrall was most definitely over. Angelus cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked innocently.

"I just thought I'd satisfy one hunger before the other, if you know what I mean, Buff." He winked suggestively, then reached toward her breast. Her hand met his halfway, effectively stopping his pursuit.

"Well, stop it! I think I've been through _enough_ already!" she snapped.

"Yes, well, torture comes in all types of forms, sweetheart. What fun would it be to stick to just one tactic?" Angelus rolled over to get up, facing away from the Slayer. He looked at her over his shoulder, as he waited for his erection to calm itself down.

"And, anyway, how did you think this was going to end? I told you that I was going to kill you. Why not have a roll in the hay before you pay me in blood? I wouldn't be completely selfish. I'd make sure you had a good time, too. Hell, if you want, I'll even go buy you a pack of cigarettes so you can have a post-coital, pre-execution smoke."

He smiled down at her, chuckling as she held her arms up to hide her chest. His sexual desire finally curbed, his body's focus returned to his thirst. The Slayer was back to her boring self, staring at the wall and feigning superiority.

Suddenly, he needed to get out. The demon within him needed to be fed, and whatever made up the rest of him, whether it was man, libido, or something altogether different, needed to be away from his vice.

"I'm going out to grab a quick bite. If I'm near a convenient store, I'll see about those smokes."

Although his voice dripped with sarcasm, Buffy merely looked up at him as if she were re-evaluating the demon who held her captive. Angelus shook his head, mystified by the look she gave him, then turned to walk out the door. Before he reached the room's doorway, the Slayer spoke.

"Angelus…"

The vampire stopped, but didn't turn to face her.

"Do you have the memories of the time I spent with Angel?"

He paused at the odd question, but decided to indulge her.

"Not exactly. They're more like…glimpses of what he felt. Why?"

"I was just wondering if you knew what turned me on. If you remembered the night I gave myself to him."

He closed his eyes, still facing away from her, gripping the doorway he had yet to pass through. Steeling himself, he refused to look back, and kept walking toward the door of the apartment. As an afterthought, he turned off all the lanterns, as he made his way out. He could still see perfectly, but now the Slayer would be at even more of a disadvantage. He heard her gasp as the last vestige of light was extinguished from view. He smirked as he recalled that she secretly feared the dark.

He could see her, from his place at the front door. She was sitting up on the mattress, her arms hugging her knees and her head lowered in defeat. He could tell that she wanted to cry, but she was not willing to do so in front of him. Not again, anyway.

He opened the door and she glanced up at the sound.

"Angelus?" The fear in her voice was present, if not palpable.

"What?" he barked.

"While you're out, could you please get me some kind of top?"

Back in Sunnydale, Spike and Drusilla had awoken in each others' arms. Sated from sleep, the blond vampire looked lovingly upon his sire. The crazy brunette smiled up at him.

"Spike…daddy never came home, did he?"

Spike frowned at her question. _Bloody hell. We wake up and the first words out of her mouth are about that stupid ponce._

"No, love, I guess he didn't. Don't think about it, though, he'll be back soon."

"Mmmm…and are you still taking me out tonight?" she cooed.

"Yes, of course I'm taking my princess out. Where would you like to go?"

"To the place the kiddies dance and frolics and get all woozy from drink! Daddy was there last night, I think. We shall find out where he slept last night and get our fill from the silly people that are there!"

She stretched out of Spike's arms and skipped over to the dresser to pick out a dress for the evening. Spike leaned on his side and watched her change. He wasn't thrilled with her reason for wanting to go to the local hangout, but he was convinced that he could maker her forget about Angelus, once he had her focused on fresh blood.

"The Bronze it is, then."

Giles, Jenny, Willow, and Oz arrived at the same time, at eight on the dot. The manager on duty looked at the foursome incredulously. No one arrived to The Bronze when it first opened.

After claiming a table, Willow eagerly thrust the online articles into Giles' hands. He studied them with great interest, looking very concentrated. A waitress came by to take drink orders and offer menus. Both were refused by the strange little group.

Two of the articles were discarded after Giles read through them, but the third caught his attention.

"Diazepam. That's a very powerful drug that's often used as a sedative. Peculiar, how it was unaccounted for and then stolen…"

"Yeah, but the murders in L.A., huh? What about those? I'm definitely voting vampire," Willow added.

"Possibly. L.A. is a large place. I'm sure they have their fair share of vampires. But there's nothing to say that those deaths connect to Buffy's disappearance in any way."

"Giles," Jenny chimed in. "What's out next course of action? We have a couple hours until Joey shows up."

"Joey?" Oz asked. "Who's Joey? A new member for the late-night gang?"

"No," Jenny answered. "He's a former fraternity member who may or may not have seen Buffy last night."

"Ah, so we're going to question him when he arrives? But how will we know what he looks like? Willow looked a little too eager to play good cop/bad cop.

"We've already interrogated him, Willow," Giles said. "We merely told him to be here, just in case we had anything more to ask him."

"As I was saying," Jenny continued. "What else can we do before people start to arrive? We're here at eight, Cordelia and Xander have yet to show up, and now we've done show and tell. What now?"

"Willow," Giles sighed. "You did remember to call the two of them to let them know when we'd be meeting, right?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"Well, could you call them, please, and find out their location?"

Willow stepped away from the table to make the call. Despite the fact that their table made up the only patrons in the bar, the music was already pumping the joint. Willow only got their voicemails, and returned to her seat. People finally started trickling in, as the four of them engaged in casual conversation. After nine o'clock, Xander and Cordelia arrived. Cordelia was the first to chime in.

"Geez, it's dead in here. I'm going to lose serious popularity points, being seen here this early and with… Anyway, so what do we do, now?"

"Due to your unfashionably late arrival, I think the first order of business should be catching you two up on the discussion we had earlier," Giles rebuked. He explained Willow's articles and the group, once again, debated the significance of all three to Buffy's disappearance.

Outside the club, Spike and Drusilla lazily made their way to the entrance. Drusilla stopped in her trek and stared at nothing.

"What is it, darling?" Spike questioned.

"Daddy…"

"Daddy, what? He's here?"

"No…" she continued, as she walked down a dark alley adjacent to The Bronze's entrance. "But he was…"

"Come, pet, let's go inside, then, and see if he's in there."

Drusilla's words came out in a sickly-sweet singing voice. "Not yet, not yet…" She lifted the lid of a nearby dumpster. "Why hello, poppet!" Her face lit up at the contents.

Spike approached the dumpster and peered into it. The body of a young man lay crumpled amongst the trash. He had been drained, obviously. His face still showed the horror of his final moments.

"Wake up, silly! Wake up!"

"Dru…love, I don't think he'll rise tonight. Looks as if the bloke was only drained last night."

"He'll do as I say, or I won't let him rise at all," the unstable vampire threatened. She looked at Spike and narrowed her eyes, before looking back at the body. She began to chant in a voice barely above a whisper, in a language Spike had never heard.

"What are you doing, pet?"

Drusilla's eyes widened as she continued her chant. She leaned over the dumpster, and kissed the forehead of the dead boy. Ceasing her chanting, she stood back up straight and smiled down at the still motionless corpse.

Suddenly, the boy's eyes sprang open. He looked at Drusilla and cautiously began to climb out of the dumpster. Spike marveled, shock evident on his ivory face.

"I didn't know you could do that, Dru."

She looked over at him with glassy eyes, then began to faint. Spike caught her in his arms and she weakly smiled back at him.

"Aw, my Spike is worried!" she whispered. "But not to fear, Spike. I had to raise him early so he could help us."

"Help us?"

By this time, the new vampire was standing nearby, reeking of garbage. He stared at the couple in confusion. He was so hungry. But they couldn't give him what he needed. He started to turn away, when the brunette addressed him.

"Don't go yet. We need to help each other first, little doggy."

He stopped and looked back at the couple. The woman looked tired, but pleased. The man seemed to be trying to mask his bewilderment with an air of conceitedness. He locked eyes with the woman and found himself unable to look away.

"Who gave you your last kiss last night, hmm?"

The young man narrowed his eyes. "He bit me. He bit me here. In this alley. I was on my way… I don't remember… it hurt, I know that. I'm hungry. I need to eat."

Spike entered the conversation. "No, you need to feed."

"Feed?"

"Blood, whelp. You need blood. And you'll need our help, or you'll just mess it up. But first," Spike looked down at his companion who nodded for him to go on. "Tell us about the man who bit you. Who made you one of us."

"One of you?"

"Vampire."

The boy's face dawned with the realization of what he knew to be true. "He….it's not clear. I have flashes in my head, of what he looks like."

"Yes, that's usually what it's like. You'll retain a certain amount of memory from your human life. Mostly images and the feelings you felt. Nothing concrete, and nothing that will impede your instincts as a vampire. Just focus, please, on what I asked you."

The young vampire closed his eyes and saw the visions of the man who'd attacked him. _What was his name? Did he give me his name? What did he want?_ Then more visions of earlier in the night. _I was with…a group. Guys. My fraternity brothers? And then in the club…slipping a vial under the counter…felt fear and guilt…talked to someone…a girl. Lindsay?_

"He was taller than me. Short brown hair. Spiked. Brown eyes. He wanted me to go into the club with him. After, he attacked me."

Spike's interest was… well…spiked. "Wanted you to go into the club with him? Why? What did you do inside?"

"I spoke to Lindsay until…" he paused to think. "Until the drug took effect."

"Who's Lindsay? And what drug?" Spike prodded.

"I…I don't remember. Please, I'm so hungry…" the fledgling pleaded.

"I'm hungry, too, Spike, and I need to feed soon," Drusilla chimed in.

Spike couldn't make sense of the new vampire's information, but could not bear to see his precious love so lackluster.

"Very well. What's your name, poof?"

"Mike. The vampire, last night, he asked me my name, too." Mike had begun to shiver from hunger. Spike could tell he needed to feed soon or he'd go on a rampage.

"Stay here, Mike. We'll go into the club and pick someone up for you. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, under any circumstances, leave this alley. Do you understand?"

Mike nodded and backed up to lean against the brick wall.

Spike cautiously rose from his kneeling position. When he tried to lift Dru, he found she was too wobbly to walk. He gently sat her back down. He looked back to Mike.

"I'm Spike, and this is my mate, Drusilla. I'm leaving her here with you, while I go into the club. Guard her, or I will kill you more slowly and painfully than you experienced your first time."

Mike nodded, again, Dru just sat with her head staring at her lap. As Spike went to leave, she called out to him.

"Spike…" and then, in her sing-songy voice, "bring me something good to eat…"

It was now a quarter to ten, and The Bronze was at the beginning of its social peak.

Couples began to loosen up, as their first and second rounds of drinks took effect. The dance floor was full of people having a great time. The only ones who looked out of place were sitting together at a table off to one side, where the emotions in the patrons' faces ranged from annoyance to longing.

In the rafters above, a blonde vampire made his secret entrance. He stood on the catwalks above, watching the humans below him and trying to decide which of them would be his prey. Seeing the table of misfits, he abandoned his plan, temporarily, and made his way through the club so that he could hear their conversation.

"…think diazepam would do to Buffy? She's so strong. It wouldn't affect her like it would any of us," the red-headed girl said. _What the hell is dies a pan? And where is the Slayer?_

"I'm not sure exactly how her body would take it, to be honest," her Watcher replied. "But it would probably affect her in some way. She still bleeds when she's cut, she simply heals much faster. Perhaps medication is the same. A strong sedative may initially affect her bloodstream, until her body dissolved it."

_Okay…so it's a sedative. The Slayer was drugged? What was that fledgling, Mike, talking about before… is "Lindsay" really Buffy?_

"Hold on," the older brunette woman interjected. "Let's not go assuming anything, here. Buffy would never allow herself to be drugged. So let's cut this conversation short, please. We shouldn't be dwelling on this idea, when we're not sure that even happened."

"Okay, so back to the L.A. vampire attacks!" the young redhead said. Most of those seated at the table groaned.

_Go on… go on…_

"Willow," the brunette boy said. "Buffy's not here to stake that vamp's ass. Next subject, please!"

"But the murders happened so close together…" she pitifully whimpered. The boy stood, took her articles, and threw them in a nearby trash can.

"THAT'S what I think of attacks going on in L.A. Don't care. Now, back to figuring out the note."

The watcher spoke up. "Yes, actually, I wanted to get back to that. How odd that it was written in Buffy's hand and vernacular…" A few confused looks made him change his phrasing. "The way she worded it. Down to the misspellings and poor syntax… er, sentence structure."

"Um, doesn't anyone remember that time when she actually DID run away?" chimed in the younger brunette.

Icy glares sought to unnerve her, and the redheaded boy spoke up, for the first time that night.

"I think it might be better if you didn't go down that road, Cordelia."

"What? I learned in my psychology class that a good predictor for future behavior is past behavior. Was Mr. Knightley wrong?" She glared back across the table, daring anyone to refute her two cents.

"Yes," the Watcher said. "But the last time she ran away, she took clothing, personal affects, necessary items with her. Her past behavior indicates that, had she run away this time, she would have had more with her than her cell phone, her keys, and her wallet. I'm thinking the note was forged."

"Angelus?" breathed the brunette boy. He put his arm around the brunette girl and hugged her a little tighter toward him.

"Yes, I think that's most likely."

Away from the Slayer, Angelus drove to a more public part of the busy city. Saturday night meant plenty of food out on the streets. Easy prey.

_I could have just drained the Slayer and been done with it._

He pulled over into a parallel parking spot. Young twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings were winding their way up and down the streets, as they traveled to their destinations. A group of three women walked by Angelus, adding extra hip to their sultry walks, as their eyes let him know he was welcome to join them. Angelus smirked, but didn't follow. He waited, leaning against his car.

More people passed by.

Two blonde ladies strutted down the street, knowing the reaction their manicured looks were getting. Men whistled and greeted them, as they laughed and kept walking. Approaching Angelus, he knew that he had found his prey. This was his favorite kind.

They glanced casually over to where the attractive man stood, in front of an expensive truck. He looked up and gave them a condescending smirk. Locking his truck, he walked away from them, laughing.

"Hey! What the hell?"

Angelus stopped and looked over his shoulder at them, but didn't turn around.

"What's so funny, dick?" The one that was speaking to him was the one of the two who was not a natural blonde.

He turned slowly, walking back toward them. His face was expressionless. He spoke as he neared them.

"What makes you think I was laughing at you, at all?"

"Um, you looked right at us, and then started laughing. So, what's the deal?"

Angelus' face showed the perfect image of embarrassment and mischievousness.

"I'm sorry you thought that. I could never laugh at something so beautiful." He smiled disarmingly at them.

Their tempers cooled, the young ladies smiled back. The natural blonde spoke next. "Well, that was cheesy… but kind of cute. I'm Darci, and this is my friend, April."

"I'm Liam."

"Liam? What kind of name is that?"

"It's Irish."

"Were you born there?"

"I was."

The girls smiled broader, pleased that they had met a European. "You don't sound very Irish."

Angelus decided to give them the accent as thick as it came. "I'm just able to mask it when it suits me, lass."

They giggled ridiculously.

"So, April, Darci… where were you headed?"

"We're on our way to Mission," April said. "You?"

"Ah, I'm on my way to a much better spot. A new club my friend just helped open up."

The girls looked confused and annoyed. "What new club? What is it called?" April asked.

"It's called The Dark Alley. VIP list only, tonight, as it's the opening weekend."

"And they're going to let you in, with your pants all ripped like that?" Darci teased.

The demon forgot about the damage the Slayer had caused. _Dammit._ "I suppose they will, if my name is on their little list and seeing as my friend is one of the owners." The lie rolled easily off his lips. It's not as if it was his first time using it. "Care to join me?"

Darci looked unsure, hesitating on going with a complete stranger. April spoke for her.

"Why not? If it blows, we'll just leave and make our way back to Mission."

Angelus smiled, reassuring them that he meant no harm. "Then let's go. I could use a drink."

In apartment number 522, somewhere in Los Angeles, Buffy sat in the dark. She'd always hated the dark. And though she wasn't as fearful as she used to be as a little girl, she was still very uncomfortable.

She contemplated the reasons for Angelus keeping her alive, as she lay on the mattress. And he'd kissed her. And touched her… in a way that was so familiar. Why?

She had been surprised that he answered her question. She never knew that the demon inside the body could have any recollection of what the soul had experienced. Giles had taught her that, when the person was killed, the demon possessed the body for its own agenda. But Angelus was so obsessed with her. Why was that?

When he'd walked out of the room, he'd first gripped the doorway when she mentioned the night she'd slept with Angel. Maybe he was remembering parts of it? _That could be my only weapon against him, at this point._

She mentally rehearsed the next steps she would take.

The Bronze was in full swing, now, and the Slayer's friends had finally split off to have separate conversations until they heard or learned more. The last ones to leave the table were the Watcher and the older brunette woman. As they got up, the Watcher stopped and looked around, as if he felt eyes on him.

When they'd finally gone, Spike grabbed the articles that the imbecile in their group had so carelessly thrown in the waste bin.

Outside, Joey Taccino made his way up to the club. He was fairly certain that he'd be the first to arrive, of his guy friends. He heard a woman's moan come from the alley across from the entrance. He became aroused when the moaning increased. Clearly, someone was having a good night. Curious, he knew he couldn't pass up a voyeuristic opportunity.

He peeked around the corner and saw a beautiful woman, with piles of dark, wavy hair. Her piercing eyes and alabaster skin were accented by the light green baby doll dress she wore. She was leaning against the wall, arching her back and moaning. Not seeing another man in the area, he decided to make her night.

As he approached, he was transfixed by her beauty and her look of ecstasy at the sight of him. Looks like the long hours at the gym had paid off.

"Hey, gorgeous. How much does a polar bear weigh?"

She smiled, but didn't answer.

"Enough to break the ice! Hahaha… I'm Joey. And you are?"

She pulled away from the wall and seductively leaned toward him. "I'm a naughty little girl who shouldn't be out late where some big man could get me." Her bottom lip jutted out in mock innocence.

"A naughty little girl, huh? I like this game." Joey put an arm against the wall and leaned into her. Her eyes were hypnotic. "I'm the big bad wolf. And I'm going to gobble you up, little girl." He went in to kiss her, but stopped as she had begun to laugh.

"Silly Joey, you are not hungry, yet, but you will be soon. Maybe your friend will help you hunt your prey."

Joey's face was blank at the woman's change of demeanor. He didn't know where this game was going.

"He's never been my friend." Came a voice from behind him. He spun around to face the person and smiled when he recognized him.

"Mike! Hey, man! What the hell? What happened to you last night? That blonde you introduced me to, damn, man! She was hot! I owe you for that one, bro. She was all over me! And, back at my place, you should have seen the way she screamed by name when I was pounding her from…"

"Shut up, you piece of shit." Mike's face was deadpan. "You didn't get lucky with her. I remember that much about you. You could never get pussy unless it was with some passed out chick, dickwad." His face morphed and Joey stepped back in terror. "I'll go ahead and take what you owe me. Thanks… _bro."_

Joey turned to run away and saw that the once-beautiful woman was now a hideous monster like Mike. She held him in place with super-human strength, while Mike drained him dry. As he did so, she cooed at him, as a mother to a suckling newborn.

"That's it, little Mikey, drink like a good boy. Your first kill. You'll always remember it."

If Joey's life flashed before his eyes, it was definitely shorter than the average movie preview. Mike had finished with him in minutes. Drusilla let go of Joey, and his lifeless body slumped to the ground. They stared down at the body for a minute, each formulating a plan of action.

"Now what?" Mike asked.

"We plant him in the ground and wait for him to spring up!" Dru clapped her hands in excitement. Mike's face was unreadable. He looked over to the dumpster he had risen from. "Or a dumpster is just fine, poppet, don't make a fuss over it, Mikey."

"No," the fledgling replied. "I was wondering if there's a way to prevent him from waking up at all. To keep him from being a vampire."

"Why would you want that, dearie?"

"I had enough of him when we were alive. No way am I going to deal with his shit forever."

The dark vampire shrugged and sauntered over to a broken palette leaning against the dumpster. She tore away a piece of the wood and handed it to Mike.


	12. Undefined Truths

**AN: Again, I feel the need to reiterate that this story will not be cannon to the BtVS series. I'm trying to make the characters recognizable (i.e. their behaviors and speech should make sense), but this is still MY version of the Buffyverse. So, if Joss says that vampires are made only through the exchange of blood, but they'll rise whenever the plot feels like it, I feel like I can take some liberties, too. No exchanging of blood, in my Buffyverse. And Drusilla can accelerate the changing process, although it is at great personal cost to her health. Because my plot needs it. Honestly, Willow and others did spells galore. Drusilla's lived how much longer than any of them?**

**Okay, sorry for that rant. But one more thing…**

**This story is rated M for a reason. I have a feeling this particular "reason" is the one most of you were waiting for… ;)**

**Jenn**

* * *

Angelus looked at his options. Having drained both of the women he'd lured out of public, he contemplated which of their outfits he should bring back to Buffy. The natural blonde was wearing a lacy purple tank top with lots of shiny stuff on it. Her peroxide friend was wearing a black halter top that emphasized her fake breasts. He decided on the black top, and roughly pulled the garment from… _Darci, was it? Whatever._

He'd had his fill of blood. Now, it was time to head back to his vice.

Inside The Bronze, Willow and Oz approached the bar, looking around to see if there was anything or anyone else that might clue them in to Buffy's whereabouts. The bartender looked a little haggard, running drinks back and forth. A sudden realization came upon Oz, and he whispered it into his girlfriend's ear. She smiled and nodded, before leaning over the bar to present herself as a customer.

The bartender took notice of the redhead, as well as the black X that covered the back of her right hand. Having a small lull in business, he approached her.

"Soda or water?" he asked.

"Neither, thank you. I was just wondering if you remember me and my boyfriend from last night. We were with a few friends…" Here, Willow paused to point out Xander and Cordelia, dancing rather awkwardly on the dance floor. "And there was another girl with us, she's blonde. Her name's Buffy. She was wearing a black top and a green skirt last night."

"Yeah, I think I remember her," the man shrugged. "It was busy last night. But I think I remember your friend. I'm pretty sure it's her stuff that was left here last night." He busied himself with cleaning the countertops near the couple, not noticing the frightened look in the young woman's eyes.

"What stuff?"

"Uh…her coat, keys, wallet, and a cell phone," he replied, nonchalantly. "I can't just give that stuff to you, sorry. She'll have to claim it, herself. Tell her to stop by our coat check, next time she's in."

"Did you happen to notice her leave?"

At the continued questioning, the bartender started feeling uncomfortable. _Crap….what happened to the poor girl?_

"No, I didn't." He looked genuinely regretful at not being any more help. "I'm sorry, I really am. I heard about a girl that had passed out in her boyfriend's arms, from a couple of the patrons, but I don't know if it was your friend."

Willow looked to Oz, who tried to pass on a reassuring smile.

"Anything else that you noticed that was out of the ordinary last night?" Willow asked quietly. The bartender asked her to repeat herself, not hearing her question over the music blaring. She repeated herself, louder, then added: "We haven't seen her since last night, and we're worried."

_Anything else I can tell this poor kid? Hmm… the vial… nah, that was weird, but there's no proof it was connected. And no way am I admitting to….well, anything that might be…_

"No, I'm sorry. That's all I know. I wish I could help…" He shot them both a sympathetic look, then turned to face a sea of new customers. Before long, the strange conversation was no longer at the forefront of his mind. _She'll be okay._ He smiled to himself as he prepared a round of B-52 shots. _Teenagers. Always such drama._

Outside, Spike was pulling along the body of a college woman. He'd knocked her out, when she'd refused to come of her own accord. He'd stuffed the articles in his coat pocket, and now he made his way back to his beloved.

Drusilla was still sitting, but looked much improved from the last time he'd seen her. He smelled fresh blood in the air, but neither the fledgling Mike nor a body were in sight.

"Where'd the chit go off to, then?"

"Oh, he ran into a friend and then he drained him and I told him to hide the body and that's what he's doing!"

Spike blinked at the amount of information contained in the single, hurried sentence.

"Why didn't he just use the dumpster?"

"I don't know," she said dreamily. Her eyes had landed upon the prey Spike had brought. She smiled dangerously. "Who's this yummy thing?"

The girl began to rouse, letting out a muffled groan, as Spike explained.

"Well, I had a couple strokes of luck, actually. First, I overheard a rather interesting and pertinent conversation. Second, whilst looking for your meal, I stumbled across this beauty."

The girl's eyes fluttered open. She filled her lungs to scream, but Spike spun her up against him, as if she were a rag doll. Her back thudded into his chest, where one arm held her in place, and his other hand flew to her mouth to stifle her sound.

"Did you know Mike has a girlfriend?" Spike's eyes were absolutely glistening with delight. "She was looking all over the club for him, furious that he'd been a no-show at her place last night."

Dru squealed at the irony, clasping her hands. "What a naughty boy! What could possibly keep him from his lovely princess?" She stared into the eyes of the human woman, whose fear was almost palpable.

"Of course," Spike pulled her face to face his, using the hand still over her mouth. "I came to the rescue and told her where she could find her Prince Charming. She believed me, at first, but seemed a bit reluctant once we were outside."

Dru stood and turned away, facing into the dark alley, as Mike ran back toward them. He called out as he approached.

"Done. I just ended up setting fire to his car, that should work out well enough. So, what's next? Are we-"

As his eyes met Sarah's, her expression changed to a mixture of hopefulness and concern. Spike released her, and she almost fell down at the unexpected gesture. She ran toward Mike, who caught her in an embrace. His mouth twitched in need. He hesitated, looking over her shoulder at the other two vampires. They'd already morphed.

"Wait…" he whispered.

Spike smiled and spoke tauntingly to the woman. "Told you, didn't I punkin? Mike's been here all along. Waiting for you."

Drusilla seemed ready to lunge at any second.

"Sarah," Mike started.

Sarah interrupted before he could continue. "Oh, I was so scared! I was wondering where you went last night! You said you'd meet me at my place, after a couple of hours with your friends. I was so mad you never came! And I called you all day! Where's your phone? So, I came here, thinking you might come back again tonight, but none of your brothers were here, so I was about to leave when I ran into…"

Her voice trailed off, and she pulled out of her boyfriend's embrace to face her attacker. Finding Spike in his demon visage, she started to scream, but Mike quickly covered her mouth.

"How could you do this?" he asked. The fury he felt, the betrayal, resonated within his voice, but he showed no intention of challenging them.

"Oh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. You should thank Spike. He gave you your princess." Dru stepped closer to her childe, taking his hand in a romantic gesture. Spike smirked, pleased. "Now, let Mommy have a nip. She's awfully thirsty, and you already had a friend for dinner."

If it was possible, Mike paled even further. He knew there was no changing the inevitable. "What do I have to do?"

The brunette demon sauntered toward her prey, locking eyes with Sarah and putting her into a state of thrall. Mike pulled away, but stayed close. Drusilla gently embraced the fragile creature, using one of her hands to brush the hair away from her victim's neck. Before biting down, she looked over to Mike.

"Just look into her eyes, and everything tell her everything will be okay, because you love her."

Spike pulled Mike to a position where he could stare into Sarah's still foggy eyes. Mike looked unsure, but the bloodlust within him rose up, as well. Excitement for what was to come boiled under his cold skin.

"Tell her," Spike gritted out, between his fanged teeth.

Dru bit. Sarah's eyes returned to normal, and she looked pleadingly at Mike. The fledgling smelled the blood and his eyes closed momentarily. When he opened them, his face changed. He looked at his dying girlfriend with eagerness and satisfaction.

"You'll be okay, Sarah. Because I love you. And now you'll be mine, forever."

Drusilla did not give him the option to change her, as her thirst was too powerful. She drained Sarah completely.

When it was over, and all three of them sported their human masks, Mike gently picked Sarah up into a cradling hold.

"What now?" he asked. "Will she wake up tomorrow night, like me?"

Spike looked to his sire, who shook her head with almost mocking sadness.

"No, Mikey, she needs to wake up on her own."

Mike looked confused, so Spike continued.

"Let her family bury her, and wait by her grave. She'll be as you were, confused and dreadfully hungry. Show her how to feed." Mike nodded, pensively looking at Sarah's lifeless form. "Trust me, mate, you should be glad about all this. You're lucky we were there to help you, and that you'll have her."

Spike grabbed Drusilla's waist and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head as she stared at them.

Mike started to walk away, when Spike called out to him.

"Oi! One more thing, mate." Mike turned back toward the blonde vampire and his companion. "You and your girly are part of our little family, now. The man who turned you made Dru, as well. Dru made me, and now your precious Sarah. We don't often have get-togethers, but we may look for you in the future. Until then," he smirked, "try to avoid sunlight and any pointy wooden objects. The rest you'll figure out on your own."

Mike nodded respectfully, then trudged away into the night with his eternal love in his arms.

The older vampires watched him leave, as they held each other. Drusilla twitched in Spike's arm, which caused him to look down into her mischievous eyes.

"Spike… didn't you have something else to tell me?"

"Ah, yes. Speaking of family…"

Outside, Spike related to his sire everything he'd learned. Simultaneously, inside the club, Willow had just finished filling everyone in on the conversation that had transpired between the bartender and herself. One by one, each member of the group let the concern show on their faces. All but one.

"So, she left her stuff. So what? I've done that before, too. Maybe she finally met some dude who didn't mind that she was kind of freaky. If I were her, I'd drop everything, too. It's not like she's great at telling us everything that's going on her life. That girl is all drama, sometimes…"

"Cordelia," Giles pinched his nose to restrain his tone. "Shut up. And go home. You're obviously of no constructive use to us. Please leave."

Cordelia had the sense, for once, to remain silent. She looked to her boyfriend, incredulous at what the school's librarian had dared to say to her. He looked at her with a hard expression and shook his head. Anger rose within her, and she stormed off before anyone could see the tears that followed.

The remaining five stood off to the side of the rowdy club, unsure what to do next. Giles and Ms. Calendar felt that the lead about the diazepam was their best bet. Willow suggested going to L.A. Oz and Xander seemed to lack any direction.

It was finally decided that the kids would go home, to the safety of their beds and continue their lives as normal, seeing as they had parents to report to. The three teens looked pissed, but Willow seemed to perk up when Giles mentioned her using her scholarly investigative skills to dig more articles up that might fill in more missing pieces.

The adults were going to the veterinarian office to do a little investigating of their own. Both parties would communicate anything of interest to the others.

Having agreed upon this strategy, the two teachers left the club to go straight to the veterinary office. The other three promised to leave after enjoying the rest of their night out.

After the adults had gone, Willow pulled Oz and Xander further into the recesses of the club. Away from the loud music, Willow spoke to the two of them candidly.

"We're going to L.A."

"WHAT?" they yelled at the same time.

"You heard me. We're going tonight. That's it. We have to. I have a feeling that's where Buffy is, and if I'm wrong, then fine. But we're definitely going. Oz, you're driving."

Oz countered, "But, Willow, babe… Giles…"

"Giles and Ms. Calendar are doing their own thing. Come on!"

"Will," Xander chimed in. "Why are you so sure we should be doing this?"

"How about the fact that the articles, MY articles that you so callously threw in the trash, are no longer there?" She was still steamed that he had done that.

"Maybe it was emptied?"

"It wasn't. The same garbage that was there when you threw them in is still there. Someone took them."

Oz and Xander looked at each other and let out a sigh in unison. They both new her well enough to know that there would be no changing her mind. Oz took his keys out of his pocket and Willow smiled.

"Alright, let's go. Uh, you do know where in L.A. we're going? We can't just drive around." Oz wasn't looking for a reason to back out, he just genuinely wanted an idea of where in the (sometimes dangerous) city they'd be headed.

"I know where to start. Now come ON!"

The trio left the club, just as it began to peak for the night. Unbeknownst to them, a certain vampire couple was already well ahead of them, speeding toward the brightly-lit City of Angels with the missing articles in hand.

Angelus was blind to the knowledge that two vehicles were making their way toward him with very familiar passengers. He arrived to the front door of the apartment and paused before entering.

_Honey, I'm home._

He smirked at the sitcom greeting that had passed through his mind. He took off his leather jacket and set it on one of the counters. Checking the cooler, he saw that all of the ice had completely melted. _Not that I'll need to get more. We're almost done, here._

He strolled casually into the room that held the Slayer and froze at the doorway.

She was laying on her back, on the mattress, asleep. Her lips were slightly parted as air passed back and forth through them. One arm lay on the mattress above her head, while the other crossed over her skirt. Her bared breasts rose evenly, with her breathing.

Clearly, she hadn't heard him enter. And it was still pitch black in the apartment. He'd expected to find her cowering in a corner, not relaxed enough to sleep. Maybe it was exhaustion from the torment she'd received. Yes, that had to be it. Surely.

He moved toward her soundlessly. When he reached her bedside, he carefully laid the black shirt he'd brought her on the floor. Then he knelt over her and breathed in her scent.

As if reacting to a dream, she began to moan and writhe on the mattress. The hand on her skirt clutched at the material, bunching it up further up to reveal even more of what Angelus suddenly wanted to see. Her back arched, then relaxed back down.

He was flabbergasted. What on earth was he supposed to do, now? He thought about their exchange earlier…

_"I just thought I'd satisfy one hunger before the other, if you know what I mean, Buff." He winked suggestively, then reached toward her breast. Her hand met his halfway, effectively stopping his pursuit._

_"Well, stop it! I think I've been through enough already!" she snapped._

_"Yes, well, torture comes in all types of forms, sweetheart. What fun would it be to stick to just one tactic?"_

Yes, that would justify what he was about to let himself do. It was pleasurable for him, torture for her. That still worked into his plan.

Starting at her ankle, he slowly moved further north, caressing her warm skin. He didn't want her to stir, just yet. The Slayer did not move.

Angelus bent over her, smelling her again. He could tell she was aroused. And he could smell her arousal on her hand, as well… _strange…_

He dipped down to lightly flick a nipple. It hardened almost instantly, at the attention.

"Mmmm…. Oh, Angelus…"

He stopped and sat up, removing his hand from her thigh. _What did she just say? She said my name. Again._

Buffy's eyes momentarily fluttered open. Seeing that it was still dark in the room, she listened for the vampire. Hearing nothing but her own heart beating, she lifted up her skirt and began to pleasure herself. As her soft fingers stroked her labia, she let out a contented sigh.

The vampire watched silently, longing to pounce on the little vixen, but uncertain of what that might cause…or mean.

His eyes watched her, and she moaned and cried out.

"Angelus, please… yes…" She continued to stroke herself, but she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.

At that, Angelus could no longer be a spectator.

A strong, cold hand suddenly appeared on the Slayer's thigh, then rose to cover her own hand. She gasped at the sensation, and shakily called out "Angelus?" The fear in her eyes did something more to the vampire. He decided he liked this. Her fearing him. The idea of her full submission was incredibly sexy. What he would do to her after… he'd figure that out later.

He grabbed the hand at her entrance and moved it to the other, which still lay on the mattress above her head. Grabbing both wrists in his other hand, he held her firmly but not painfully. The first hand went back down to her nether regions to continue the game she'd started.

He stared into eyes that searched the darkness for him, and felt another surge of arousal at this helplessness. As he slid his fingers into her wet spot, she bit her lip and bucked her body in time to the tempo he'd set. Her eyes were watering with disbelief…and pleasure.

Angelus growled, then claimed her lips to take a forceful kiss. She was caught off-guard, but the passion that she had once felt for him surged upward, until she was competing with him in the kiss. She struggled to free her wrists, as they hungrily tasted each other again. He did not relinquish his hold.

He finally pulled away, still holding her wrists, still pleasuring her wet folds.

"If I let go, will you be good, Buff?" He looked her in the eyes, as her own hooded orbs struggled to find the owner of the voice in the dark.

She continued to buck against him, arching her back. Controlling herself for one brief moment, she nodded.

He let go of her wrists and she left them over her head. Angelus moved to rip away her skirt, but he was dismayed to have the Slayer thwart her efforts by stilling his hands. He growled again.

"No, please…I want to wear this again. Let me take it off? Please, Angelus?"

The demon inside of him seemed assuaged by her simply using his name in such a state. He acquiesced. She slowly unzipped the side of her skirt, then tantalizingly worked it down her legs, her hips swaying in an attractive manner.

Angelus' mouth watered.

Despite the room being pitch black, he could see her completely naked form perfectly. He had seen her unrobed beauty before, but that was when Angel had control. The demon inside had been forced to watch, as through a window, as the Slayer had given herself to his soulful self. Now, there was no barrier to taking his own pleasure with her.

His patience had waned, having already made her even more ready for him.

_She started it…now I'll finish it, before I finish her._

He freed the only part of his body that was necessary to complete the action of fornication between the sworn enemies. As he thrust into her, his satisfaction was made sweeter by her cry of surprise.

His anger merged with his passion, driving into her soft flesh with unbridled lust. Unfinished thoughts bounced around in his head, ideas that were, at times, nonsensical.

_I could devour every inch of her body…She is mine…Meant to be with me forever…I'll stop at nothing…_

Pulling out of her momentarily, he took advantage of her sex-dazed state to flip her onto her stomach. He grabbed her hips and pulled them up to his own, then masterfully entered her from behind. When he heard a small growl rumble in her chest, he smiled. He continued to take her, while grabbing her throat and pulling her back flush against his chest. The Slayer sought to loosen his tight grip, gasping for air in between his thrusts.

Angelus came as he choked her, finding more enjoyment than he had thought possible from her mewled cries of pleasure laced with pain. He collapsed on top of her, his larger body continuing to impair her normal breathing.

And then came the moment of truth…

_Shit…I can't kill her._


	13. Tables Turned

Her ruse had worked. Angelus now lay beside her…most likely contemplating killing her, but still. It was a small victory.

_Steel yourself, Buffy. Finish this._

Stealthily, her hand skimmed the mattress to its edge and then found the broken baseboard shard. While Angelus had been out, she moved the mattress to the side of the room and used her heel to kick down through the floor to the wooden studs. Thank goodness the vampire hadn't drugged her, again.

Rolling onto her side to face him, she kept the makeshift stake behind her, while her other hand roamed his body…looking for his soulless heart.

When her fingers finally found his left nipple, he suddenly growled and pulled away from her. He stood and righted his appearance, and she hurriedly shoved the stake back to its hiding place underneath the mattress.

Buffy blinked when he turned on the light, and she questioned the premeditation of his act once again. The opaque, black fabric that covered the windows was genius, really. She wondered where he had found the drugs. Did some of the "things" that went bump in the night also deal prescription sedatives?

Angelus stared down at her. _He looks…angry. Well, he always looks angry, but there's something else. Is he brooding? He looks more like Angel, now…more than I've ever witnessed…_

She did not attempt to hide her naked body from him. But she _was_ cold. His eyes remained on her, studying her, as she shimmied back into her skirt. Realizing that she had nothing left to put on, she frowned and crossed her arms. Goosebumps appeared, now that the heat of sex had dissipated.

Seeing her shiver seemed to remind him of something, and he left the room. She contemplated making a dive for the stake, but she knew she only had one chance. He returned almost immediately and threw her a black top that had obviously had a previous owner. She scrunched her nose at the strange perfume, but still pulled it over her head. Whoever had worn the top earlier that night had a larger chest than she did.

Slightly less cold, now that her chest was covered, she met his stare. She forced herself to look needy, desiring. Her eyes pleaded with his, as she sought to bring him further into the web she dangerously wove.

Then he turned his back on her and walked out. Before he had left the apartment completely, he called out to her.

"I'll be back before dawn. Don't do anything I wouldn't want you to, Buff."

And with that, he was gone.

Buffy pulled at the chain in the wall. It still refused to budge. Chalk one up for Angelus. She walked toward the window and pulled the curtain aside. Angelus was making his way to where he had parked his truck. The street looked completely deserted. _Should I cry out for help?_

As if he heard her stray thought, he stopped mid-stride and looked directly up at her. His eyes threatened her silently, and he shook his head as a final warning.

_Great. Now what?_

When Angelus reached the truck, parked on an adjacent street, he considered just driving away. Leaving the Slayer in the apartment. Maybe she would be rescued. Maybe she would starve to death. She didn't deserve such a lazy death, but he couldn't bring himself to give into his vampire instincts. Maybe, if she didn't die at his hands, he could be freed from her completely.

Angelus had no soul. He didn't _care_ for the Slayer…but he _needed_ her. He could feel it. Killing her would be like draining the entire world's blood supply. Incredibly satisfying instant gratification that would lead to ruin. The conundrum was plaguing his mind. He was also running out of time. He couldn't expect to keep her holed up in an empty apartment forever.

He started the engine and rode toward the coast. Maybe a long walk on the beach would give him some clarity.

"Follow him! Follow him!"

"Now, pet, we saw him get into his car. We need to find out where he came from. He might be hiding something important."

"But, Spike…"

"Dru, love, just stay in the car and let me snoop around a bit, okay? Think up a nice ditty for me. You know how much I love to hear my little songbird sing for me."

The delicate vampire pouted in her passenger seat, humming a melancholy tune. Satisfied that she was placated, Spike left the car and inhaled deeply. He smelled Angelus' scent in the air. If he was hiding anything nearby, Spike was sure as hell going to find it.

He followed the larger vampire's scent, leaving his own in its wake. Angelus was certain to be furious when he smelled the younger vampire's scent alongside his own, poking in business that he clearly wanted kept separate from the rest of his undead family.

Not that Spike feared retribution.

Sure, Angelus had threatened…but he was all bark, no bite. _Just a wanker on a bloody power trip._

The scent led him to a building. It was in good shape. Like the rest of the neighborhood, it seemed unfinished. As if some construction company had given up on trying to create a peaceful district within such a corrupt city. He climbed the stairs two at a time, itching to see what lay at the end of the rainbow.

His high hopes made him shudder with delight. If it really was the treasure he envisioned…well, it would be better than Christmas.

Not that Spike celebrated Christmas.

Eau de Angelus reeked from room 522. He kicked the door in. No need to feign stealth. If there was someone inside, he wanted that person to know. However, no sound greeted his intrusion.

Walking into a kitchen, his eyes found a small black bag. Inside were small vials of a clear liquid and several syringes. _Ah, ha! The diesinpan. Die as a pen? Whatever._

He filled a syringe, placed it in one of his duster's pockets, and headed for the lit bedroom. Still no sound. _Not even a mouse._

He kicked that door open, as well, staying far behind the frame. He was delighted to see the very person he'd prayed would be there.

Not that Spike prayed.

Fine, hoped.

The Slayer poised herself in the center of the room. She held in her hands a splintered piece of wood and a portion of the chain that seemingly connected a plaque in the wall to a metal collar that circled her delicate neck. A thick scent of musk filled the air. She had had sex very recently, either willingly or unwillingly.

 _Wow. That's a seriously disturbed bastard, to kidnap the Slayer, chain her to the wall, and force himself on her._ But not kill her? _Why not? Interesting…_

"Hello, Slayer, fancy running into you here. I was just in the neighborhood, shopping for a new flat. How's the landlord?"

"Out, at the moment. I suggest you get lost, before Angelus comes back."

"And leave you here to succumb to his romantic wiles? I think not. Come, Slayer, wouldn't you appreciate a lift back to Sunnydale?"

He approached her cautiously, pleased to see her muscles tense at his advance.

"I'd rather stay and play house with the demented demon that brought me here. Thanks, though."

Spike sneered at her playful jab, and she returned his disdain. He studied the chain that confined her. _How long is it?_

Before he had time to guess, she lunged at him. Her stake was aimed straight for his heart, and he was forced to fall back to the doorway. _I'd say it's about three meters, give or take._

She went back to her original position, but she no longer held part of her chain. _Clever bint, she was trying to make it seem shorter than it actually was._

He studied her for another moment, until a thought entered his head.

"Let's see what naughty things the Beaver family has in their little household…"

Her eyes widened slightly, but her stance remained firm. He left her in her room and popped into a second bedroom. It was bare, save for a cardboard box. Angelus was sicker than he'd ever thought. Spike pulled the whip out of the box and smiled. Rummaging around, his hand paused on some shackles ( _Kinky, but I'll never get them on her while she's awake…_ ) and then a long metal rod.

"Now what, pray tell, is this fancy thing?"

Hitting what he supposed was some sort of "ON" switch, he was surprised to hear a faint hum ring through the air. He grinned, realizing what the contraption was for.

There were other items in the box, but he left the room with the whip in one hand and the electric prod in the other.

Buffy's heart rate shot up when Spike returned. As soon as he'd kicked open her door, she had been terrified that he would snoop around and find those exact two instruments. And she had a broken piece of wood.

She couldn't trust herself to throw it. Spike had defeated two slayers before her, and his fighting skills surpassed every vampire she had ever fought, save Angelus. Keeping a level head was proving too much of a challenge, as she felt waves of panic overtake her.

Spike smiled…and the whip came directly toward her. She moved to the side, and narrowly avoided its path. The blonde vampire didn't seem the least perturbed. He struck the whip out again, but when she dodged the other way, his wrist flicked and the trajectory altered. She felt a stinging sensation on the back of her knee. She did not cry out in pain.

They danced this routine over and over. Sometimes, the whip would find her, but mostly she was able to dodge it. He was toying with her. How insulting.

"What are you doing, Slayer? You're not fighting back. It's no fun when you're putting as much effort into this as a wet noodle."

Buffy smiled at his choice of words. "That's what Dru said," she mocked.

With that, Spike swore and lunged at her with both weapons drawn. The whip was longer, so she focused on kicking that from his outstretched hand first. After successfully removing that threat, they circled each other with the armaments they had left. Both the prod and the stake were about the same length, so they eyed each other like it was a shoot-out in the Wild West.

Spike's typical scowl was replaced with a gleeful look, as he circled closer to the metal plaque in the wall. She knew, at that moment, that somehow Spike had figured out a way to beat her. As her brain sought the knowledge that he already possessed, the vampire touched the electric rod to the metal chain.

Her throat felt the fire first, and then it consumed her. It was much, much, worse that most of the jabs that Angelus had applied.

When the current let up, she noticed that she was on the ground. The stake had been kicked away and her entire body ached. Spike stood over her, before kneeling down. She did not give him the pleasure of looking him in the eye.

"Sorry about that, Slayer. I've never been electrocuted, myself, but it didn't look like a walk in the park."

He looked down and away from her, fumbling for something in his long coat. She tried to pick herself up, but his other hand smashed her back down to the floor.

"Not leaving, yet. You need something for the pain."

Her eyes watered as he mercilessly stabbed the needle into her lower thigh. She heard the syringe clatter across the room. _That's not the correct way to dispose of used medical equipment…_

"My Drusilla is much better at the torture thing than either myself or Angelus. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy it…I just get impatient and usually end up running a railroad spike into some vital organ. And Angelus…he's a little too…passionate in his duty as torturer. Especially when it comes to you, missy."

Spike broke the chain easily and threw her limp body over his shoulder. Buffy could feel reality slipping away, along with the pain. _Maybe sleep won't be so bad. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I won't wake up…_

"But my Dru…she's bloody brilliant. An artist. I love to watch her work. Yes, I'll admit, I'm a voyeur."

They left the apartment and made their way down the four flights of stairs.

"And I can't wait to watch her with you…"

If he kept talking, Buffy heard none of it.

Outside, Oz's van circled the desolate streets. When they passed a particularly old car, Willow tensed and told Oz to keep driving and park on a side street.

"What is it, Will?" Xander questioned.

"Did you see that black car? The parked one?"

Oz squinted in recollection. "Yeah, that would be the only car we've passed in about five blocks…why?"

"The windows! They were all black. Like from paint!"

"Maybe the guy couldn't afford tinted windows?"

"Xander! Come on, who or what wouldn't want the sunlight to easily shine through their car?"

Oz pulled to a stop and parked the vehicle. He smiled at his brilliant girlfriend. "Vampires."

The trio made their way back to the corner and peered around the building to watch the suspicious car in question. Xander spoke first.

"Sooo…what, are we doing surveillance? We can't wait around. Buffy may be in trouble!"

"I know," Willow stated. "But this is our best lead, we need to…"

"Shhh!" The two friends looked to Oz, who motioned for them to discreetly peer back around the brick building.

A couple blocks up the street, a blonde man wearing a long jacket and carrying a body over his shoulder walked toward the blacked-out vehicle. As he approached, the driver's door opened and a lean brunette leaned over to the seat to greet him. They spoke briefly, and then the man turned to survey his surroundings. Buffy's friends ducked out of sight, until they heard the car's doors slam and the engine turn over. Looking back to see the car racing off into the night, they ran back to the van.

Again, Xander spoke first.

"That was Spike and Drusilla, right?"

Willow nodded.

"Which means the blonde on his shoulder was…"

"Yep," Willow finished.

Oz chimed in, "But, what about Angelus, where is he?"

"JUST DRIVE!"

Oz pulled out and sped to catch up to the vampires' car. When they got on the freeway headed north to Sunnydale, Oz couldn't help but roll his eyes.

He didn't want anything to happen to Buffy, but come on.

 _Gas is expensive._ Vampires probably didn't care much about that little fact…but he was a broke high school student.


	14. Decisions

**Hello, readers!**

**I attempted to write convincing police radio jargon, but I refused to do more than a little basic internet research. It probably won't be too convincing. Also, no smexy stuff in this chapter. There will be more, later, but I had to get my characters back to Sunnydale. And I just couldn't think of a way for a bunch of car sex to happen whilst driving in So Cal.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Jenn**

* * *

Driving was boring. In the last 24 hours, Angelus had drunk his fill of blood, and he'd killed enough humans to sate almost any malevolent supernatural being. What else was there to do? He thought about taking a drive down to the beach; maybe surprise a couple or two making love under the stars…

_And that brings me right back to what I was trying NOT to think about._

He settled with driving through the deserted neighborhood, dull as it was, in an attempt to clear his head of muddled thoughts.

His frustration with the Slayer was getting worse. He didn't understand his obsession with her…and he wasn't sure what else could be done to get over her. He had to make a decision. He knew that much. They couldn't keep this up forever.

_So what to do…_

Killing her was out. He couldn't do it. Not himself, anyway.

_Option one: get someone else to kill the Slayer._

Not a bad idea. There was a list of vampires in the area that would relish the honor. Or he could make It personal…turn all of her friends, her Watcher, her mother into vampires. Send them after her and see if she had it in her to kill them. _Could be interesting..._

_Next, option two: turn her._

That was more complicated. He'd be her sire. He would be able to dominate her, but there was no telling what unleashing a demon inside her would do to her personality. Spike and Drusilla retained little of their human traits. Did he want the same for the Slayer? _Me, Dru, Spike, and Buff…one big happy family? I think not._ _She should never occupy the same space with those two, turned or not._

Option two was officially no longer an option.

_Last, but not least, option three: leave her._

It wouldn't exactly free him from his obsession, but… _What is it humans say? "Out of sight, out of mind?"_ He could at least try. He could distance himself from her. Leave Sunnydale. It would be difficult, but not impossible. If he was lucky, someone else would kill her before he found himself aching to be with her again.

_Of course, her luck, she'll just come back to life…miraculously…again._

Right now, she was under his control. Actually, her captivity had little to do with it. Even before he had trapped her in that room, he had held her emotionally captive. In her own way, she was just as obsessed with him. She couldn't kill him. And, more importantly, she couldn't move on. Leaving her would solve that last problem. He would be releasing the canary from her cage.

Were those his only options?

_It's not like I can stick around and play boyfriend. I'm not…him. I can't do that._

They would run the same circles over and over again. Torturing each other until something, or someone, else intervened to finally end it all. He refused to put himself through that.

Unconsciously, he had driven back to the apartment complex and parked the stolen truck in the exact same spot. He was sick of rolling the same scenarios around in his head. The engine's low purr halted, as Angelus pulled the key from the ignition.

_There's still enough diazepam to knock her out and get her back to…_

Angelus paused, mid-thought, as soon as he caught whiff of a familiar scent in the air. It was… _no, it can't be… how?_

He snarled loudly and ran for the apartment. The scent became stronger, in the confines of the stairway and hallway. Reaching the room, he found the door wide open. His eyes darted around, taking in the small, but important, details: the black bag was unzipped, the Slayer was gone, the broken chain (sans the collar) lay upon the floor alongside the electric prod and an empty syringe…

"Son of a bitch! I'm going to kill that blonde twerp!"

On the freeway, Spike and Dru were contemplating what to do with their backseat passenger.

"How should we kill her, love?"

"Daddy is going to be so very mad…" The dark seductress had been uneasy ever since she had seen her protector walking toward the car with the Slayer slung over his shoulder.

Spike, on the other hand, was elated at the prospect of adding another tally mark to the list of Slayers he had killed. He did not hear the concern in Dru's voice, as he was currently too busy drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His enthusiasm could not be dampened by the worried expression on his beloved's face.

"Spike?"

Her raised voice caught his attention, and he stopped drumming. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"I see…" Her voice halted in her throat, as she stared past the mostly blackened-out windshield. "We've done a very bad thing. He will be angry, and there will be no lollipops or dollies from now on…"

Spike narrowed his eyes, but focused on the visible part of the road. "What are you talking about, Dru? Angelus? Is that what you're worried about?" His eyes darted over to her nodding head. "Babe, he'll be angry, but he'll get over it. Honestly, we're doing him a favor."

"He won't think so," she whispered. "But we lose no matter what. She's the only one who wins. She'll be the only one who gets a happy ending like in the fairy stories."

"A happy ending?" Spike was completely baffled. He summoned all of his patience. "Not bloody likely. What do you mean, love?"

Dru frowned and turned around to look at the drugged Slayer. "You'll see…" she sang softly.

Three cars behind the dark vehicle, a tacky-looking van kept pace. Inside, the three teens were also contemplating their next move. No one spoke, until the silence was broken by sage counsel.

"Uh, maybe someone should call Giles."

Willow and Oz looked at each other, and then at Xander, who had spoken. Willow nodded and took out her cell phone. All three were silent, while she listened for Giles' greeting.

"Giles! Spike and Drusilla have Buffy! We're following behind them, now, coming back from L.A… Yes… Well, it was my idea; I wanted to check out the articles I found… Well, you can't be too upset with me, since my hunch turned out to be a good one… No, we didn't see Angelus… I don't think so… Not that we saw, but Buffy didn't struggle or anything, so she _could_ have been drugged…Oh, no, we won't do anything stupid… I, Willow Rosenberg, promise to make sure Xander, Oz, and I wait in the car outside the vampires' hideout and call you immediately, happy? … Okay, like I said, I promise. Call you soon, bye!"

Willow hung up the phone and frowned at the boys. "So, we're just going to follow them, until they stop. Then we're supposed to park a safe distance away, and call Giles with the location."

"That's great for you two," Xander replied, "but I'm going in immediately. I'm the dumb one, anyway, so it's my turn to mess up." His smile and depreciating statement were mildly successful in cheering Willow's spirits, as she let a small smile escape from one side of her lips.

"No, Xander," she protested. "It's too dangerous. This is Spike and Drusilla we're talking about here. Not some fledgling vamp." It was Xander's turn to frown, having has his idea shot down by his best friend. "We'll do what Giles asks, and when we have the whole gang, we'll rescue Buffy."

"How do we know that she'll still be alive?" Oz chimed in.

"Because," Willow answered. "If they just wanted to kill her, they would have killed her back in L.A. I think they're taking their time with her, for some reason…like she's the gold medal of kills. They want to savor the moment."

"Weird. So, how does Angelus factor in?"

"I'm not sure, yet. I think he's the one who kidnapped her, originally, and took her to L.A." Willow paused, trying to cover all the possibilities in her mind. Her two companions waited patiently for her to continue. "Spike _could_ be working with him, but I don't think he is. Remember how the articles were missing from the trash can at The Bronze?"

Xander nodded. "You think he took them and figured it out?"

"Yeah, which means that they didn't know, either. I guess Angelus didn't want them to be included in his plans for Buffy…whatever they were. And if they stole her from _him_ …"

Xander, sitting further back in the van, spun around to look out the back window. "Oh, holy crap. That's just great. Now WE have to worry about being followed." He continued to scan the cars behind them for any sign of Angelus.

"I don't think he'll be worried about us. We're not the ones who have Buffy."

"He's a _vampire_ , Will. They stick with their own. And, right now, we're the helpless meaty mortals in the middle of an undead sandwich!"

Willow looked out the window at the traffic behind them. "We'll see…"

Angelus, meanwhile, was roaring down the interstate, speeding back to Sunnydale and to his family's hideout. He maneuvered the truck between the lanes of cars, frustrated that he couldn't simply run everyone off the road.

_If that asshole dares to hurt her without my permission…_

He had almost completely exited the metropolis' limits, when he saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror.

"Oh, perfect."

He needed the element of surprise, in handling his disobedient children. He didn't want a car chase down to Sunnydale. The dark vampire swore, then slowed down, and took the next exit. The officer behind him slowed and followed. The off-ramp was unlit, being out of the boundaries of L.A., and Angelus smiled as a plan began to form.

In the police car behind him, the officer was on the radio with the dispatcher, going through all the proper procedures. She informed the dispatcher of the exit the black truck had taken, as well as the plate number of the registered vehicle. When the truck pulled into the darkened parking lot of a park-and-ride, she told the dispatcher that, as well. Back-up was being coordinated, but she knew it would take longer to arrive then if she'd caught the driver in city limits. She shut her eyes, momentarily, in dismay and waited for the plate check to come through.

"Car 212, I show a 10-16 on your perp's plate. Repeat, vehicle has been reported stolen from an impound lot five days prior. Officers en route, ETA seven minutes to your location. Over."

"10-4, dispatch. I'm going to identify and run license. Stand-by for further info. Over and out."

She placed the radio back in its holster and exited her vehicle. The black truck remained silent, as she approached the driver's side.

Suddenly, the truck roared to life, causing the officer to remove her gun and point it toward the errant driver. She expected the perpetrator to take off, but he (or she, as far as the officer knew) let the car idle where it was parked.

"TURN OFF THE VEHICLE, REMOVE THE KEYS FROM THE IGNITION, AND THROW THE KEYS OUT OF YOUR DRIVER'S SIDE WINDOW! NOW!"

The truck continued to idle, perplexing the officer. She contemplated grabbing for the radio on her shoulder, but she didn't want to lose her aim, even for a moment, on the truck. She stepped cautiously toward the driver's side, arching widely to allow for greater visibility.

"I SAID TURN OFF THE VEHICLE, REMOVE THE KEYS, AND TOSS THEM OUT THE WINDOW! DO IT NOW!"

She studied the tinted windows for any movement. Her own car's headlights illuminated the area well enough, but she needed a flashlight to see through the darkened window. Expertly grabbing it from her belt without dropping her gaze, she aligned the flashlight's beam with the barrel of her Glock. Shining it through the window, she was shocked to see that the cab contained no driver. _The passenger side door is open…when the hell did this delinquent open the damn door?_

Before she could investigate further, cold hands appeared on her neck from behind. And before she could fully gasp at the implications, those cold hands twisted her neck and severed her spinal cord. Her body collapsed to the ground, dropping the flashlight, but still holding the gun.

Angelus sneered behind her, and stepped over her limp body. He got back into the truck, closed the passenger door, and pulled out of the lot and raced up to the freeway. As he smoothly merged into traffic, he noticed two police cars exit to where they would find the downed officer. _So close_ …he smiled as he imagined their reactions.

He stamped down the gas pedal to make up for the lost time. Traffic had thinned out, the further north he traveled, and he was within minutes of Sunnydale city limits. When he approached a familiar-looking van, he could not help smirking. Scanning the cars in front of it, he saw what he was looking for. He slowed down and allowed for a few cars to pass him, creating a buffer between the three vehicles.

The black car with black paint on its windows exited first, followed shortly thereafter by the van. _Those fools better be a little more incognito, if they don't want to tip off Spike._ Several more cars exited in front of him, but he changed lanes and raced to a later exit. _It's all about the element of surprise._

He didn't know how Spike had found him (or the Slayer's groupies, for that matter), but he no longer cared. After exiting, he backtracked through the city's streets, running red lights and speeding through the mostly-asleep town. He arrived at the back entrance of his family's dwelling, seamlessly parked the truck. and made his way into the building. The other two vampires had not yet arrived with the Slayer, which was fortunate. Angelus still didn't know what, exactly, he was going to do to the two of them.

Spike and Dru had made a grave mistake, foiling his plans. Clearly Spike needed to be taught a lesson. Dru, on the other hand…her punishment would depend on her reaction, he decided. He was still the leader of their clan; if they felt they were able to challenge him, they were in for a rude awakening. _They'll see…_


	15. Covert Operations

"Hey, Oz," Xander called out. "How about we _not_ let the scary vampires in front of us know that they're being followed?"

The werewolf looked into the rearview mirror and found Xander's eyes drilling into his with a condescending look.

"There's a car between us and no one behind us," he reasoned. "How am I supposed to be more discreet?"

Willow rolled her eyes at their bickering. The two boys had been butting heads ever since they had worked out their plan. Xander felt that the pseudo military experience he had received from a Halloween mishap was suddenly equivalent to espionage know-how. Oz did not agree.

"Distance, man!" Xander shook his head and tried to appeal to Willow. Having no desire to take sides between her best friend and her boyfriend, she neutrally faced forward in the passenger seat. "Linger back, and when you see they've made a turn, turn on the street just before theirs and follow parallel; then, watch for a major street to rejoin them on…"

"Harris!" Oz shouted. "Stop playing backseat commando and just let me drive! Babe, do you think you could do some kind of locator spell on their car? Make it easier for us to hang back…" he looked back at Xander before adding, "without us losing them in some lame spy method found in a B-movie?"

" _Lame_? I'll have you know that-"

"Yeah!" Willow chimed in, effectively cutting off what would have been an unnecessary remark from Xander. "I think I can do that."

The young witch focused her gaze on the target: the black car that carried her friend. "Hecate, goddess of sorcery and crossroads, I beseech thee. Light our way through the darkness and guide us directly to the resting place of those who would wish to do our friend harm…"

Beams of light quickly shone through her eyes, and then they returned to normal. It took all their control for Oz to stay on the road and for Xander to not scream. She looked to Oz, who glanced furtively back, and smiled.

"You okay, babe?" he queried. He hated pushing Willow to use magic, but, in this instance, her skills were needed.

"Of course." Her smile grew wider when she looked back toward the car they were following. "I guess that should make it super easy, huh?"

Oz and Xander saw no change in their surroundings.

"Is there supposed to be some ball of light, or something, that will help us?" The brunette scanned his surroundings, convinced there was something he was missing.

"Um, yeah, silly." Willow gently chided. "Look at Spike's car!"

"Babe, _we_ can't see anything… Can you?"

Willow's smile faded at the revelation. "Well, yeah…there's like a misty trail of light that's coming from the back of the car. Don't you see it, too?"

"No…but as long as it worked, and there's something to follow, we'll be fine."

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "And if your witchy trail doesn't get the job done, there's always my way."

Oz clenched his jaw, but did not instigate another argument with his girlfriend's best friend. Willow still seemed dejected that her spell had not worked to the degree she had wished, but she called out where the blonde vampire was going.

In the lead car, Spike breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was weird…"

Dru had been silent for the majority of the ride back to Sunnydale. When he had tried to engage her in conversation, she had answered briefly. Sometimes he could hear her humming, but she mostly just stared out the window.

He had noticed the van after it had followed him off the freeway. How long it had been behind him, he didn't know. He'd been too excited about having the Slayer doped up and in his backseat. After a few turns, the van had suddenly slowed and missed a few lights. Now it was nowhere in sight.

"We're almost home, baby. And then you and I will feast on Slayer blood. Have I ever told you that it's a natural aphrodisiac?"

In the backseat, Buffy stayed as quiet as possible. She kept her eyes closed and listened to the inane conversations coming from the two vampires. Although she still felt the effect of the drug in her system, she inwardly smiled. It hadn't affected her as strongly, now that her body was beginning to dissolve it faster.

Just as she had been making progress with Angelus, these two numbskulls had swooped in and changed up the game.

She knew they had to be heading back to their mansion. _I wonder if Angelus even knows I'm gone, yet…_ She pictured him coming back to the apartment and not being able to find her. Would he be able to smell Spike in the air? Was there a way vampires could mask their scents from other clan members?

She forced herself to abandon that train of thought and concentrate on her current predicament. Spike had stupidly neglected to tie her up, and his overconfidence would definitely help her escape. She just had to feign being in a drug-induced coma for a little while longer. Looking around, there was nothing in the car that would act as a weapon, and she knew it would be unwise to attempt to stop them while the car was in motion. She could be patient. She'd learned a whole new chapter of patience since last night.

 _Have I only been gone for a day?_ It seemed much longer. Being in close quarters with her former lover had manipulated her body's timetable. She felt as though she had been there for a week.

She inwardly shivered, as she recalled her last encounter with Angelus. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she had enjoyed their rough sex. It was only her second time, but it was good. _No, better than good…it was hot._

Her love-making experience with Angel, minus the demon it unleashed, had been just what she needed. Soft, exquisite, memorable, safe… This last experience had been the opposite: feral, primal, hard, and dangerous. She had been freed. She was used to being gentle with everyone around her. Her mother, her friends, Giles, classmates… The only time she could really unleash her power was when she was slaying. After a good fight, she had usually found herself suddenly craving something. She usually settled for a nonfat yogurt.

Now, she recognized that the familiar craving was actually sex. _Slaying makes me…horny? Yet another aspect of my job that I'll be keeping to myself._

She had been so close, _so close,_ to killing Angelus. She had _finally_ felt ready; what if she never found that kind of release again? Could anyone else, alive or undead, do that for her?

It didn't matter. She couldn't be selfish. Not anymore. Angelus had killed innocent people. He was a demon, a vampire. She was the vampire slayer. Without a soul, he was simply another target. Tonight was the last time the Aurelius clan would torment her town. She would dispose of Spike and Drusilla, then find Angelus, wherever he was, and reduce him to dust, as well.

Then she would move on…to whatever new threat would emerge from the bowels of the Hellmouth. And, after each threat had been dealt with, she would just reward herself with a nonfat yogurt. Yum.

The car came to a stop, and she heard Spike open his door and exit the vehicle. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on the sounds and movements around her, desperate for any information. She heard footsteps circle around in front of the car, then Drusilla's door was opened. _How sweet,_ she jested. _Such a chivalrous blood-sucking monster._

But then she paused…why did Spike love Drusilla? How was he able to care about anyone other than himself, if he was only a demon in human form? She had used their strong feelings for each other as a means to thwart their devious plans many times before. But she had never contemplated how they could possibly be so close. _Giles said that when a vampire is made, there's no soul._

She recalled talking to her friend, Ford, about the subject of becoming a vampire. He had stupidly holed her up, along with a dozen or so vamp-wannabes, as bait for Spike and his followers. He had offered them up as fodder, in order to have a place among them in immortality, thereby avoiding a miserable death from the tumor that was liquefying his brain. _That's not how it works,_ she had informed him. _You die, and a demon sets up shop in your old house, and it walks, and it talks, and it remembers your life, but it's not you._

Was that right?

Her thoughts were halted by the back door being opened. Strong, cold hands reached underneath either side of her; she let her body go completely limp, to keep up the illusion that she was still under the effects of the drug. Once again, she was thrown over his shoulder and carried to a new destination.

Inside the mansion, Angelus listened for the front door to open…he smiled when it did. He remained in his hidden spot, looking down upon the foyer, out of sight.

Spike had entered with the Slayer slung over his shoulder, cocky as ever. Dru followed behind, looking despondent. Angelus studied the Slayer. She appeared to be out cold, but he could still see color in her complexion. And something else...

"Dru, love, would you mind getting a pair of shackles for me?" Spike asked, as he laid the Slayer across a dusty chaise lounge.

Still lack-luster, she nodded and started to leave the room. "Drusilla?" She paused, when she heard Spike use her full name. He almost never used her full name.

"You might want to bring a couple of your toys with you."

"Not now," she softly responded.

"Don't you want to play, princess?"

"No time," she shrugged. "And not my toy."

"Dru-"

"That's my good girl," Angelus interrupted, as he stepped out into view.

Spike's face went hard, but he barely flinched at the surprise of seeing the eldest member of the family back in Sunnydale.

"She knows that I don't like to share."

Drusilla watched Angelus with a pitiful look in her eyes. He deduced that the mentally-warped vampire had not been the mastermind of their little subversive plan. He smiled lecherously at her, acknowledging her submission to him. Relief flooded her eyes, knowing that she would not be directly punished by her maker.

Angelus looked back to Spike and narrowed his eyes at the younger vampire. Spike returned his glare with defiance.

" _I'm_ the one that knows you don't like to share, Angelus," he coolly shot back. "Having to fight for Dru's affection has taught me all about that little issue of yours. And speaking of issues…"

The blonde vampire returned to the Slayer's side and sat beside her. He stroked her hair gently, grinning at Angelus.

"This seems to be the one that you'll never be able to resolve."

Angelus growled menacingly. Spike stopped touching her but stayed seated.

"Let's find out why, shall we?"

Although he was tempted to rip the British vamp's head off, Angelus decided to humor him. As long as Spike didn't harm his Slayer, there was no need to preemptively kill Dru's childe in front of her.

"Do you love her?"

Angelus laughed derisively. "Well, I _was_ on my way to the store to buy her candy and flowers, when you swooped in and stole her from me."

"Don't get bloody defensive with me, lover-boy, just answer the question."

"No, I don't love her," Angelus countered.

"Then why haven't you killed her?"

"I was about to-"

"No, you weren't," Spike sneered. "And I wasn't just referring to tonight…I mean all those other times you worked your arse off to hurt her, only to what? Make her weep into her pillow? You've had opportunities aplenty, mate, but you never seal the deal."

Angelus privately fumed, upset at having his former foibles thrown in his face.

"What was it you told me, when you first came back to me and Dru? Oh, yes! You said that, in order to kill the Slayer, you had to _love_ her." Spike smirked knowingly at the dark vampire. "How did that plan go? Hmm? Any success with that, or did she friend-zone you?"

Spike looked back down at the unconscious Slayer. "I wouldn't be surprised if she did. She could probably do much better, a pretty little bird like her…"

Angelus roared and pulled Spike from his seat by the duster's lapels. "Didn't your precious mother teach you not to run your mouth about shit you don't know?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

He threw him against the far wall; pieces of drywall and plaster broke at the point of impact, landing on top of the felled vampire. Spike slowly rose from the ground, while Angelus threateningly crouched in front of where the Slayer still lay. Dru backed up into the shadows, not wanting to be in the way of the fight that would inevitably follow.

Buffy, meanwhile, stayed motionless, storing up her energy and preparing to use it when the time was right. When she heard the vampires wrestling, she figured that she would let them tire each other out. Why do all the work, when they were so willing to unwittingly help her?

Outside the mansion, two blocks away, Giles and Jenny had just arrived to where Oz's van was parked.

The five humans each held weapons. Willow had a cross in one hand and a wooden stake in the other. Giles held a large crossbow. Jenny grasped what one could only assume was a flask of holy water. Or possibly vodka. The two boys each had their own stakes.

"So," Xander began, "we just storm the castle and save the Buffster?"

"We must take into account that there may be more than two vampires in there with her," Giles cautioned. "We mustn't rush into their lair without a plan."

"Since when do our 'plans' _ever_ go according to plan?"

Giles ignored the jab and continued. "We should find a window. We'll assess the situation, and then figure out how to rescue Buffy."

"Well, if we're going to take our time, who's up for an ice cream run?"

The sarcasm in the high school student's voice was too much for the librarian to handle, so he sent a warning look to the culprit. "Xander, if you have an idea that doesn't involve glorified suicide, then I would be happy to hear it." He cleared his throat and faced the others. "Now, stay together, and follow me."

Giles led the way, with the rest of the Scooby gang following behind. When they had reached the massive building, Giles evaluated the choices in front of him. On the side of the building, a massive oak stretched to the roof but supplied ample shade onto the windows it faced. Leading them to that spot, he motioned them to stay against the large tree, while he looked through the panes.

Looking in, Giles saw a mostly bare room, save for a few ornamental pieces covered in white cloths. On the opposite end of the room was a door, but it was shut. Buffy did not appear to be inside.

"This won't do," he barely whispered to the group. "It's just an empty room. We need to check around the other side."

Willow approached the window and began to murmur. Suddenly, the window opened from the inside.

Giles stared, disapprovingly, at the young witch. "Willow," he started.

"What?" she innocently asked. "It's just a simple unlocking spell. Handy though, huh?"

"Point, Willow!" Xander opened the window fully and climbed inside. The rest of the gang followed him. "So...now what?"

Jenny spoke up. "A blueprint of this place would be nice." She smiled and produced the invaluable document from her pants pocket.

"Where on earth…" Giles started, mystified.

"When Willow gave you the address of this place, I was able to find the house plan on a realtor's website." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "You got the weapons, I got the map. Like I said before, welcome to the twentieth century."

The group huddled around the piece of paper, studying different routes.

"Here," Xander spoke up, "we go out this door, make a right down the hallway, take a left at the end, go up the stairwell, and then we'll be on the second-story. It looks like there's a balcony, or something, that's on top of the living room area. If she's not there, we can split up and figure out what room they have her in. Sound like a plan?"

Giles' eyes raised and he nodded. "Astoundingly, yes."

Now following a confident Xander, the group quietly made their way to the staircase. Xander had made it three steps up, when the stairs began to squeak horribly. He quickly turned to see Oz behind him on the first step. The two boys froze.

"Too much noise," Xander mouthed. "One at a time."

Oz stepped back down to the ground floor, while Xander continued his ascent. He gingerly tested each step. Although they still made noise, the stairs seemed relieved to have only one person on them; the sound was minimal. When he reached the top, he motioned for Oz to follow. They could hear snarling, and what sounded like a struggle between two men. As desperately as they wanted to see what was going on, they continued their covert infiltration of the vampires' lair. One-by-one, they made their way up to the second level.

Still drenched in darkness, the team warily peered over into the grand foyer. Spike and Angelus were fighting, destroying much of the room's contents and the room itself. Buffy was laying on a chaise lounge, unmoving. In the shadows below, they were barely able to make out the light green silhouette of Drusilla's dress.

She was watching the fight, anxiety on her beautifully pallid face. Her expression softened, and she looked up to the balcony. Five peoples' breaths hitched in their throats when she found them in the dark. She smiled at them and waved, before returning her gaze to her feuding family.

Crossing over to where Buffy lay, she whispered into the Slayer's ear. Her eyes flitted back and forth, between the vampires, the Scoobies, and the Slayer.

"Are you Sleeping Beauty? I think not. But I know why. I've seen it...seen how the story ends."

Angelus had Spike in a choke hold, when he noticed the female vampire dangerously close to the Slayer's neck.

"Dru, back off! She's mine!"

The whimsical she-demon smiled and made her way over to the duo. Her childe held by her sire. She gently coaxed the eldest vampire's arm away from the neck of Spike. Angelus was wary, but he allowed her to pull Spike away from him. The two male vampires glared at each other, but made no move to continue their pissing contest.

"Spike, it's time to go. I want to change our ending." Despite her pulling on his arm, he was still rooted to his spot. "Please?"

"Hold on, pet," he whispered back. Turning to face Angelus, again, he addressed him boldly. "If we go, are you going to follow us?"

Angelus heard the finality in his voice. Spike loved Dru, blind as he was that she did not fervently return his feelings. As soon as he'd regained power over his body and reentered their lives, Angelus could tell that he could not endure to be in their presence for much longer. The way they doted on each other was so…human. If Spike wanted his childe to himself, so be it. He had done enough to ruin Dru's life when she was still alive. And then she had chosen Spike. Clearly, they belonged together.

"No," he responded, his voice heavy with the mixed emotions he was feeling. "If you leave now, and promise to never come back, I won't ever go looking for you."

Spike stared at him, trying to see past the darkened expression to see if Angelus was lying. Satisfied that he meant to keep his word, he turned to his beloved. With a happy nod, the pair walked away. When they reached the car, Spike, ever the gentleman, opened his lover's door and helped her get seated. After he had started the engine, he turned to her.

"So, love," he sighed. "Where shall we go, then?"

She thought for a moment.

"We've never been to South America…doesn't it sound delicious?"


	16. Sunrise, Sunset

_If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank... without passion, we'd be truly dead.*_

Angelus walked over to the Slayer. She was still lying on the chaise lounge where Spike had placed her.

"You can cut the act, Buff. They're gone."

Upstairs, five pairs of eyes watched the vampire advance on their friend. Giles, Jenny, Xander, Willow, and Oz watched Buffy's body finally move from the prostrate position they had found her in. Her hair fell back into place, and they noticed a large metal collar around her neck. It looked as though it was locked.

Xander gripped the stake in his hand and motioned for the group to attack. Giles seemed to sense something and calmed the over-anxious teenager. He signaled to the four others to stay still and silent.

Buffy was seated, her hands between her legs, head down. She had been waiting for the best moment to escape the vampires' lair, but she had been caught off-guard when Drusilla called her out. Apparently Angelus knew she had been faking unconsciousness, too. _Am I that easy to read, or is that a vampire thing? I fooled Spike…_

She looked up at her former lover. He looked as though he was in deep thought. In the back of her mind, she allowed herself to appreciate his stoic form.

When he reached toward her, she didn't flinch. She didn't know what to expect, but she desperately wanted to believe that she had already made it through the worst. He grabbed the collar and pulled her up from her seated position. The action wasn't gentle, nor was it abusive, in nature. Standing, the height difference was still immense, but she felt more empowered…almost as if she was back on a level playing field.

"The drugs must have worn off," Angelus started. "I saw the syringe. Spike gave you a full dose, but it wasn't as effective as he thought it would be. Guess you should be thankful your body is so…resilient." His eyes studied her, but she did not reply.

He didn't know what else to say. If she had been awake for the entirety of the argument, then she had heard way too much. The silence between them was deafening. He hated feeling awkward around her. It was just all wrong. What had happened? What had changed from the previous night?

The smallest noise sounded from upstairs. Jenny, Giles, and Xander glared at Willow, whose face was appropriately red from embarrassment. Her foot had fallen asleep, and she had badly wanted to move it to let the blood flow. She hadn't counted on a hush falling over the room.

Downstairs, the vampire and the Slayer did not acknowledge their sudden awareness that they were being watched, but they both stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the heads of a group of people. Buffy's eyes pleaded with Angelus to leave her friends alone. Although, truth be told, she was more worried for his sake. If he tried to hurt them, she would be obligated to protect them. She had taken too many steps back, and the thought of staking him was once again disagreeable.

The three parties were at an impasse. Buffy's friends were fearful of attacking Angelus, as he was much closer to Buffy than they were; Buffy could take on _any_ vampire, but drugged…well, they didn't want to press their luck. Angelus couldn't attack the Slayer's gang without provoking her to attack him. And Buffy was back to the beginning. She didn't even have it in her to fight him for the sake of her own retribution.

Angelus cowed to defeat. Ultimately, he _was_ outnumbered. And he didn't want the others to witness his weakness towards the Slayer. He smirked and gripped her collar tighter. The metal broke in his hands, causing her to wince at the pinch of pain. He dropped the device to the floor, and the loud clanging reverberated in the cavernous room.

"We're through, for now, Slayer," he said. "I'm not a 'pet person.' I was getting tired of you, anyway." The shock on the Slayer's face amused him. His eyes flitted to the darkened second level. When he found her Watcher's spectacled gaze, he leaned over her and grinned. "Try not to be too upset. I know how much you enjoyed being on my leash."

He looked back down at her, and his cocky expression faltered. Turning toward the door, he walked defiantly away from what he wanted. Before exiting, he called out to her one last time.

"Be seeing you."

The words were ambivalent. Were they a threat or a warning? Or possibly a promise?

The weighty door slammed behind him, and Angelus darted into the night. Dawn would be creasing the horizon soon, and he had just relinquished power over his home. He needed to find another place to stay, fast. He thought, only for a moment, about running to the closest cemetery and holing himself up in a crypt.

_No, thank you…I'd rather be dust._

Leaving his home, his stolen car, and his obsession behind, he searched for sanctuary.

Back in the abandoned mansion, Angelus' absence brought the Scoobies down from their hiding places. Buffy tried to smile at them, but she was still in disbelief about what she had heard. Spike and Angelus' conversation was burned into her mind. Upon seeing Giles, her calm demeanor broke and she allowed him to hold her as she collapsed in tears. He tenderly rocked her against him, thankful that his charge was alive and safe.

Xander cleared his throat and approached Buffy cautiously. "You okay?"

Buffy pulled away and looked back at her friends. "I will be." The smile on her lips did not quite reach her eyes, but it was convincing enough.

As they departed, Buffy eyed the metal collar that lay on the floor. No one spoke to her, until they reached their cars.

"Your mom's been really worried," Willow spoke. "What are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know," sighed the blonde Slayer. "What does she think happened?"

Willow glanced hesitatingly over to Giles. "Um, she kind of thinks you ran away…"

"WHAT?"

"Well, I mean, you…er…Angelus left a note saying that you needed some time-"

"Wait, WHAT? Angelus left some note and she bought it?"

"It was really convincing! He put a lot of time into it. He copied your handwriting, your syntax…" Buffy squinted her eyes at the unfamiliar word. "Uh, sentence structure…like, he really went the extra mile."

Buffy sighed, again, and resigned herself to the inevitable.

"I guess I'll just have to play his little game, then." She frowned. "Which means I'll probably be grounded until I'm, like, 45. SO not fair!"

It was decided that Giles and Jenny would take Buffy home, while the other high schoolers were ordered to return to their beds.

"And, hey!" exclaimed Willow. "It's only Sunday, so we still have time to study for our exam!"

Groaning at her enthusiasm for the mundane, the other three students piled in the two vehicles.

In Giles' car, Buffy dwelled on the return of "normalcy."

"Giles," she cautiously whined. "Can't you, like, write me a note or something to get me out of that test? I _was_ kidnapped."

Her Watcher smiled towards her reflection in the rearview mirror. He wasn't irritated with the proposal, but he wasn't going to acknowledge it with a response, either. Jenny smiled and looked out the window, wondering when the next crisis would rear its angry head. With Angelus on the loose, she would still have to keep close tabs on the Sunnydale situation, or one of the other descendants would step in. Maybe she could search for a restoration spell, find an Orb of Thesulah…

When they arrived at the Summers' residence, Buffy sighed. Giles turned to her and gave her a solemn nod. There was nothing he could do to help her, in this area of her life. Buffy reluctantly left the car and trudged toward what would probably be an over-emotional reunion. Behind her, she heard Giles drive away.

She turned toward the rising sun, wondering where Angelus was now. He hadn't had much time to find shelter, after he'd left the mansion. She had no doubt that he was safe, somewhere. Had he told her the truth, then? Was he sick of the twisted game he had played with her? _Does he…feel for me? Was his letting me go all an act?_

Knowing that she could not put off the inevitable, she hesitantly knocked on the door of her home. _Wait, where's my keys?_ She pursed her lips, when she realized that her belongings were still at the Bronze and that she would have to wait until it opened to retrieve them. Her thoughts were interrupted by the rustling sounds from inside. She heard a low thump and then her mother's voice, as a curse was hissed out. _Must have been sleeping on the couch…I'll bet she hit her shin on the coffee table, again._ Frantic footsteps found their way to the door, and then both ladies' hearts skipped a beat as they anticipated what would be on the other side.

Joyce's eyes were tired, but alert. Buffy cringed at the bags under her mother's eyes that showed her lack of sleep. Upon seeing her daughter, her eyes went wide and she threw her arms out to embrace her.

Buffy smiled and allowed for her mother to hold her. A sob broke from over her shoulder, from her mother's lips.

"Buffy! Where on earth have you been? Where did you go?" Joyce pulled away and held her daughter's shoulders as her emotions swept from disbelief to relief to anger. "What are you wearing? And what gave you the right to just run away without talking to me? Do you have ANY IDEA what you put me through? I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD BE SO SELFISH TO DO THAT TO ME AND TO ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS! HOW COULD YOU-"

"MOM!" Buffy interjected. Surprisingly, Joyce halted her tirade and stared into her daughter's eyes. "Please, I know it doesn't mean much, but I am sorry. And I am very, very tired. Can we please go to sleep, for now, and talk about this after we've both rested? Please?"

Her mother gaped at her daughter's suggestion. She pulled Buffy inside and locked the door behind them. Instead of holding Buffy in place, her mother's hands now sat at her hips, to match the look of outrage on her tired face.

"You RUN AWAY from home, and YOU EXPECT ME to just let you go to sleep WITHOUT TALKING ABOUT WHAT YOU DID?"

Buffy sighed and sat down on the couch. She was no match for her mother.

After a lengthy discussion about Buffy's disappearance, attributed to a fictional boy at school who had betrayed her and her stressful classes, the two Summers women had fallen asleep on the couch. Buffy leaned into her mother, who had placed her arm protectively around her only child. When discomfort caused them both to awaken, Buffy looked up to her mother's face. Joyce smiled and motioned for them to go upstairs. She tucked her daughter into bed, as she had done when Buffy was just a child. Before leaving the room, she pulled the curtains to limit the sunshine that flooded the room. Buffy smiled at her and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Joyce smiled back at her daughter. She still hadn't figured out how she was going to punish her for running away, but that was not a priority, at the moment. Leaving her daughter to sleep, she started to head toward her own bedroom, but paused. Turning around, she made her way back downstairs and headed for the couch. She grabbed a nearby blanket and covered herself, as she lay herself down. Her daughter was home, thankfully, but she was not convinced that Buffy may not try to slip out, again. _I think I'm going to have to get an alarm installed…_

Later that Sunday, the two women resumed their conversation. Afraid of enacting a punishment that might cause her daughter to leave again, Joyce settled with having Buffy check in whenever she wished her to do so. An earlier curfew was tacked on, as well, to solidify that this was, indeed, a punishment. Buffy frowned at the reins placed on her life, but, all things considered, her mother had been pretty merciful.

"When you are done with school, you call me. When you are leaving school, you call me. When you are going to stay late at school, you call me. When you are leaving home, you call me. When you want to go out-"

"I call you," Buffy finished. She couldn't take the repetition anymore. "Mom, I've got it. I will check in with you every and any time I can. Trust me, you'll be begging me NOT to call you, I'll be calling so much."

"I doubt that," Joyce coolly stated. "And I DON'T trust you, not completely. Not after what you pulled. You'll have to earn that back. And multiple check-ins will be the minimum, if you get my drift. You'll still have to ask for permission to go out socially, and I'm thinking that there are going to be few instances where you'll get it. Got it?" Buffy nodded, sullenly. "Good."

Joyce left the room and headed into the kitchen. Buffy heard the clanging of pans and the opening and closing of the cabinet doors. She looked over to the clock. It was almost seven.

"Hey, mom?" she tread cautiously. "I left something at The Bronze the other night. Could you drive me over there to get it?"

A sigh came from the kitchen, and one more cabinet banged shut. Joyce came out holding a towel. "Now? Can it wait until after we eat?"

"Well…maybe, if we go now, we can stop at Fresh Choice** on the way home?"

Joyce couldn't tell if her daughter's eyes were expressing innocence or mischievousness, but she smiled at the suggestion.

"Yeah, I guess we could go now. Grab a jacket and I'll meet you in the car."

Buffy ran upstairs and grabbed an empty purse and her black leather jacket. Her green skirt and the unfamiliar black halter top were crumpled on the floor. She felt like a new person, after she had showered and changed. Now, she was unsure about what to do with the two articles of clothing. Thankfully, her mother hadn't made any more mention about her strange attire and lack of shoes.

Picking the black top up with two disgusted fingers, she gingerly threw it into the trash. She was tempted to do the same to her green skirt…but she _really_ liked it. She threw it into her laundry hamper, instead.

She glanced out the window and saw that the sun was just barely above the horizon. The artistic shades of dusk illuminated the sky with brilliant colors. Soon, they would disappear into the black. _That's when evil comes out to play…_

A car's honk shook her from her musings, and she ran downstairs.

When they reached the popular club, Joyce remained outside. Buffy reassured her that she was just going to run in to grab a makeup case. Because of the early hour, there was no bouncer at the door. Buffy walked in to the dimly-lit atmosphere and saw only one couple seated at a nearby table. Her attention was diverted to a door that swung open, just in time to see a waiter emerge with a plate of fried pickles. She scanned the club and saw the same bartender that had served her the fateful drink. He was organizing the various bottles of liquor, making sure that each of the labels faced out perfectly. Her eyes narrowed and she walked toward the bar.

When he saw her approach, the bartender halted his task and smiled at the attractive young woman.

"Hello, how may I help you?" he politely inquired. His jovial expression faltered, when he saw the scowl on her face. _She'd be much prettier, if she learned how to smile,_ he thought.

"I was here the other night, on Friday, and I left some of my things."

Her tone was blank, unfriendly. And he got the feeling that she was judging him. She looked familiar…

"Okay. Anything that we found should be in the coat check office. That's where we have our lost and found. I don't think Erin is here, yet, so I can let you in." He grabbed the key from under the register and motioned for the young woman to follow him.

"What, exactly, are you missing?"

"My coat, my wallet, my keys, and my cell phone."

He flinched, realizing that the familiar girl was the same teenager who had gone missing. Or so her red-headed friend had claimed.

He opened the door and peered inside, looking for the light switch. Once he had found it, he asked the girl to describe each item to him. All of her belongings were in the same spot in the enlarged closet, but he feigned ignorance and handed her each item separately. She tucked each item into her purse and threw the extra jacket over her arm. He tightly smiled at her and locked the coat room back up.

Buffy turned on her heel and headed for the exit. Before leaving the establishment, she whipped around and saw that the bartender was staring at her. Caught in the act, he smiled and quickly recommenced righting the liquor bottles. She was not going to let him off that easily. Fuming, she marched back up to the bar.

Hearing the girl approach, the bartender forced a smile back onto his face and turned to meet her, again.

"Hello, again! Did you need-"

"Let me tell you something," the blonde interrupted. "When I was in here on Friday night, you handed me a drink that some frat guy ordered for me. Ring any bells?"

"Friday…we were slammed, and the other bartender called in sick…"

The young girl scoffed and continued. "I don't really care about your excuses. Bottom line, you handed me a laced drink."

His heart clenched as he remembered the entirety of the scenario. Before he could stop himself, he whispered, "…but it was just water."

"Ah, HA! You DO remember!" The teen smirked at him in triumph. "It wasn't 'just water'…erm…what's your name, anyway?"

"Sam," he quietly spoke.

"It wasn't 'just water,' _Sam_. What did you put in it?"

The bartender shook his head vehemently. "No, I didn't do anything! Some guy asked me for a water, then asked me to deliver it to you and tell you it was from him."

"Really? Because that just doesn't seem likely. Unless your water source is already laced with drugs."

Remembering the small vial he found, he blanched.

"I handed him the water, then I went on to take a couple of other drink orders. I saw him push it toward me, so I went to grab it and that's when he told me to give it to you…" He hesitated before continuing. "I lost sight of him for about a minute, after I handed the water to him. But I _swear to you_ I did not put any kind of drug into your drink."

She looked at him searchingly, still judging him. He sighed.

"At the end of the night, when I was cleaning, I found…I found a kind of…um…"

Her eyes bored into his, obliging him to finish the difficult sentence.

"I found this vial… there wasn't anything in it, but it was over by where he was standing. It didn't smell like anything-"

"Yeah, funnily enough, it didn't _taste_ like anything, either."

He looked at her, guilty.

"I didn't know what to do, then. You were already gone. Everyone was. When I saw your stuff in the coat check, I didn't realize you were the same girl."

"You gave me a drink that you allowed some stranger to hold onto, out of your sight!"

"I am so, so sorry, miss. I am. I was just so busy. I would never usually do something like that. I swear!" His heart clamored inside his chest, as his panic overtook him. _She could get me fired…oh, God, she could sue me!_

She sternly held his troubled gaze.

"Luckily, my boyfriend was there, and he was able to rescue me from getting _molested_ on the damn dance floor by some asshole."

He continued to pitifully look at her, but he did not offer more apologies.

"You remember what happened to me, because if I hear of some poor girl at The Bronze getting roofied, I will come straight for you. Do you understand me?"

Sam acknowledged her. Something about her, something he couldn't define, told him that her threat was one to be taken seriously. Her slight frame was menacing, in a way…as if she felt confident that she could kick his ass. _Maybe she could._

Satisfied that she had said what needed to be said, the girl walked away from him and left the building. He frowned at her revelation of the events of Friday night, as he resumed his preparations for the night. He had been so stupid, allowing that little frat boy to play him. _What were his letters? Beta Kappa…something…oh, who cares. I'm going to keep an eye on everyone, from now on._

Outside, Buffy got back into her mother's car and smiled.

"Got it? Hey, where did the jacket come from? Did you leave that, too?"

"Yeah, I guess I forgot. Fresh Choice?"

Joyce smiled at her daughter's flightiness. She started the car and drove toward their favorite restaurant, as the sun disappeared from the sky.

Across the city, Angelus awoke from his slumber. He was eager to finish his mission.

* * *

**Hello, readers! Author's note at the bottom of the chapter! Jenn is going CRAZY!?1**

**Anyway, just wanted to say a few quick things:**

**The asterisks are my citations. * The opening italicized lines are from the season two episode "Passion." ** Fresh Choice was one of my favorite places to eat, and they were all over the place in California (other states, too), when I was younger. I think that chain of restaurants died in 2012. *cries***

**This will be the penultimate chapter. So, one more, folks. I kind of need this fanfic to grow up and move out of the house.**

**I started writing a sequel, called "Delivered Unto Evil," and it will be posted soon, with new chapters posted as I finish them.**

**Few = 3. I have kept my word. Thanks for reading!**

**Jenn**


	17. The Last Dance

"Hey, Giles…yeah, I'm fine, just hanging out at the house with Mom…yes 'all night'…no, I really can't, not tonight…" Buffy looked at her mother and smiled tightly. "Yes, she is…not really…could you please just do this for me?" She chewed her lip nervously, anticipating how she would explain the strange phone call.

"Just cover for me tonight, please. I really can't go out…Yes, I know, again…I'll figure something out, just give me the night off…thank you…alright, be careful, and tell Ms. Calendar I said hi."

She hung up the phone and looked into her mother's puzzled eyes.

"I'm sorry, but _why_ did you have to call Mr. Giles, again?"

"We're helping him with research…for extra credit!"

"In what class?"

"Ms. Calendar's."

"Doesn't she teach computers, or something? Why on earth would helping a librarian get you extra credit in a computer class?"

Buffy's confident smile began to fade. "Well, we're creating some kind of information base, or something…I don't know exactly what it is, it's just some extra credit thing! And I could really use it, in that class." She pouted convincingly. "It may be the only way I pass!"

"And who else is doing this…extra credit assignment?"

"Willow, Xander, Oz, and Cordelia…sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Well, she _is_ kind of a ditz, Mom. Sometimes she comes, sometimes she doesn't. I don't think she takes it seriously enough."

Joyce nodded and started to turn away. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure how much more intense questioning she could take.

"And didn't I hear you tell him to 'be careful'? What does _that_ mean?"

Buffy hesitated. "Um, well, you know, old books, old librarian…he just needs to exercise a little caution, is all." She shrugged at her mother and bounded up the stairs. "I'm going to change into pjs, then I'll be down for movie night!"

Joyce shook her head at her daughter. "He's not _that_ old…"

When Buffy reached her room, she closed and locked her door. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Her sanctuary. That's what her room was. Finally relaxed, she removed her jacket and hung it in the closet. The long-sleeved shirt came off next, discarded on the floor, and they were followed by her shoes and jeans. She stripped the socks off and threw them into her laundry hamper, where they landed on top of the green skirt. Opening one of the drawers of her dresser, she found a tank top and a comfy pair of sweatpants. She pulled the tank top over her head and went to pull on the pants, when she felt a sudden chill.

She slowly finished dressing herself and turned around to the window. The curtains were still drawn from earlier, when her mother had tucked her in. But now, the breeze outside caused them to billow. She froze, scrutinizing when, exactly, the window had been opened. She most certainly hadn't done that.

Outside, the wind picked up, and the curtains rippled away from their path. The moon was only a small sliver in the sky, so she could only barely make out the outline of a large crouched figure. The eyes, however, gleamed yellow…they were perfectly visible. The figure smiled, and she could see the white fanged teeth from what little light illuminated them.

She was caught unaware. She was _sure_ that Angelus wouldn't try anything so soon. After each of his failures, he had taken the time to sulk, while some new terror posed a threat to Sunnydale. How long had he been watching her? She shivered, but struggled to maintain an air of indifference. Her home was still off-limits to him. He could sit and sulk on her rooftop until the sun came out. She would still have movie night with her mom, and there was nothing he could do about it.

She thought about ignoring him and leaving the room, but she found herself walking toward the window, instead. She pulled the curtains aside and openly glared at the intimidating vampire. With his face in its natural state, he looked every bit the dangerous demon. He grinned wider and cocked his head at her daring.

"What are you doing here, Angelus?" she inquired with a bored tone.

He licked his lips.

"Up until a minute ago, I was just enjoying the view." His feral eyes raked over her exposed skin, and she crossed her arms in response. He looked back to her and rolled his undead eyes. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Buff."

"I'll ask you one more time, and then I'm going downstairs to watch 'She's All That' with my mom. What, exactly, are you doing here?"

Angelus sneered. "I believe I mentioned before that we needed to work out some issues. In my opinion, the sooner the better."

" _You're_ the one that has issues, Angelus, not me. I've been doing fine. Aside from what crap the Hellmouth randomly spits out, I'm handling things. I didn't need to be kidnapped and abused by the demon that inhabits my boyfriend's body. That's just one more thing on my very full plate."

The dark vampire smirked condescendingly at her. "That's not true, Buff, what you just said."

"I just said…wait, what?"

He chuckled at her confusion. "You see me as something that 'inhabits' a human body. You're wrong. You and your Watcher."

"Don't try to confuse me, Angelus."

"I am only the evil side of Liam magnified. Yes, I'm a demon, but I'm also fully him. I have power, I crave blood, and I remember _everything_."

"HA! Nice try. Liam died, your demonic self took up residence in his body, and you remember _his_ life…but you're NOT him."

"And Angel was?"

"Angel had a _soul_. You don't."

"A _soul_ is a glorified conscience, Slayer. Every vampire decides who they want to kill, who they want to turn, and what they want to do. Having a soul limits who you're willing to kill, who you want to turn, and what you want to do. That's all."

"That's a lie-"

"And what makes you the expert? You have never been on the other side. You only know what you were taught."

"And what I see!"

"Buffy!" Joyce's voice rang out. "Are you almost ready? I was going to start popping the popcorn."

"I'm just…yes, I'm about done, just need to put something away. I'll be down in five!"

Buffy heard Joyce's footsteps recede back down to the kitchen. When she was satisfied that she wouldn't be overheard, she started to speak but was interrupted.

"I lied. I can do that, if I want to, you know."

"Lied about what?" Buffy's forehead creased in misunderstanding.

"When you asked if I had the memories from your time with Angel, I lied. I said I had glimpses."

Buffy went to respond, but closed her mouth. She wanted to hear him out.

"I remember everything. I remember meeting you in that dark alleyway. I remember the first time we kissed in your bedroom. I remember being inside you for the first time." His eyes bore into hers, and he did not smile.

"You're…you're NOT him. You're NOT. Stop it!" She backed further away from the window.

"When you unleashed this side of me, lifting the curse, it was like… how do I explain it?" He paused, racking his brain for the best simile. "It's like being the passenger in a car. You see everything, you react to everything, but you control _nothing_. Angel was always terrified of me, his other side. But he was defined by me, as well. I watched as he fought against others of our kind, and I saw him fall in love with you. He was trying to be as _human_ as he could be." He said the words as if they were rotten in his mouth. "A vampire is so much more. It was… _disgusting_ to watch."

Buffy's arms stayed crossed at her chest, but she patiently waited for him to finish.

"You gave me back the keys to the car. I was in control, again. Angel is now in the passenger seat. I can't interact with him, but I know that he's there…witnessing everything I do and helpless to do anything about the parts he doesn't like."

"Don't kid yourself. There's nothing about what YOU do that Angel would like."

"I don't really care," he retorted. "I'm in control, not him. And that's how it's going to stay."

Buffy moved slightly closer to the window and uncrossed her arms.

"Well, you certainly DO have issues, Angelus. And thanks for trusting me with your therapy session, but I'm really not qualified. And I really have a movie night to get on with, so…" She turned away from him and walked toward her door.

"We're not finished, Slayer! Not by a longshot." His words were a promise.

She turned back to him and saw his silhouetted form. He shifted his position and turned his back to her window, leaning against the frame. _Now would be an excellent time to stake him…_ she sighed. _If I could._ Instead, she retreated downstairs. If her vampire stalker wanted to hang out on her roof, then so be it.

"Well, it took you long enough!" Buffy's mother half-joked in greeting. She mumbled an apology and slumped onto the couch. Joyce brought a large bowl of popcorn and settled next to her daughter.

The movie was not enough of a distraction to keep her from thinking about everything she had heard in the past couple of nights. The popcorn went mostly untouched, as she contemplated.

"Ooh! He's cute!" her mother exclaimed, when the male star appeared onscreen. Buffy snorted at the cheesy scene. The actor smirked at a picture of himself…smirking. Then he had turned to face the fourth wall, looking the exact same as his picture. _I mean, how tacky_ _can you…ooh, he IS cute!_

Buffy smiled at her mother and tried to focus on the movie. But soon she found herself back on her original train of thought. _It can't be…it's just supposed to be a demon. But Spike and Drusilla clearly love each other…demons aren't supposed to be able to love. Why is Angelus so obsessed with me? Why couldn't he kill me? He's had enough chances. Spike mentioned that Angelus had said something about having to love me to kill me…what the hell does THAT mean?_

"Hey! That girl kind of looks like you!" Buffy nodded absently at her mother, but saw right past the cafeteria scene that was on the television.

After the movie concluded, Joyce turned the television and VCR off. She took the leftover popcorn into the kitchen and discarded it, all the while twittering on about how much fun she had and that she and Buffy needed to do movie nights more often. Buffy agreed with her mother, gave her a long hug, and then touted off a goodnight.

Back in her room, Angelus' figure was still where she had left it: leaning against her window, looking out onto the neighborhood. Leaving the window opened had chilled her bedroom considerably, and Buffy swore inwardly at that lack of foresight.

She moved toward the window, shivering. Angelus swerved to face her, his face hard.

"Invite me in."

Buffy scoffed. "Yeah, right. Sorry, only vampires with souls are allowed in."

Angelus' vamped face morphed into his human visage. He still stared at Buffy, displaying no emotion.

"Invite me in."

"Seriously?" she asked, incredulous. "Changing your face won't change my mind."

"We have to finish this."

"Finish what? This whacked out talk? And then what? You drain me for dinner then have my mom for dessert?"

Angelus let a small smile pull at his lips as he replied. "You're the only dessert I want, Buff. You know that."

Buffy shook from a mix of cold and arousal. The vampire could smell it, she saw it in his eyes as they flashed gold momentarily.

"I can't trust you," she whispered.

Angelus sighed, seeing that they were, once again, at an impasse. "I will come back every night until this is resolved. And, until you're able to find it within you to kill me, I will haunt you until you die."

Buffy softly bit the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to answer. An idea popped into her head and she left the window to rummage around in her closet. Grabbing a stake, she checked the door to make sure it was still locked. Then, stake in hand, she walked back toward the window.

Angelus smiled when he realized that he would have his way. She walked right up to the sill and touched the point of the wooden object to his chest. "Come in, Angelus."

The vampire deftly made his way into the room, careful not to place any additional pressure on the stake aimed at his heart. Buffy stepped back accordingly, allowing him to come further into her sanctuary.

"See?" he smiled down at her. "We're right back to where we started this weekend, dancing the same precarious dance. But, this time, you're the one who has the upper hand. Good job, Buff."

"Thank you. Now, what?"

"I want to conclude our conversation. Did you think about what I had said?"

"Not really," she coolly answered. "It was a good movie."

Angelus laughed and brought a hand up to caress her shoulder. "Such a pretty little liar, you make."

His hand traced up her neck to her jawline. He gingerly brought his other hand up to sit at her waist. He felt her stiffen underneath him, but she did not make him stop.

"What are you doing, Angelus?"

"You ask me that more than any other question. Stop asking and allow yourself to be surprised." He swayed her back and forth with his body's momentum, with the stake still separating them.

"Your surprises kind of suck." She eyed him warily, comforted only by the piece of wood that was her insurance against him.

He laughed, again, at her choice of words. "Yeah," he confirmed. "They usually do."

"Spike asked you why you haven't killed me. You never answered him. Will you tell me?"

Angelus ran his palm over her cheek, letting it slide underneath her hair. He smiled when her eyes darkened at the gesture.

"Because I like the tug-of-war we play. It's much more interesting than some apocalyptic plan that I could devise."

Buffy frowned. "So, what, we just do… _this_ …forever?"

Angelus frowned, as well. "No…" He stopped their dance. "No, we can't. I can't take it."

"So…could you at least try-"

"No," he growled lowly. "I said it before, Buff. I'm not _him_. You didn't like being my pet. I would hate to be yours."

When she looked down at the stake, his hand pulled her chin up to face him. He bent down and kissed her. The stake lightly penetrated his shirt, barely breaking his skin. He pulled her closer, anyway. The stake dropped from her hand and fell onto the carpeting below.

Both of his hands met hers and he crossed them behind his neck. She left them there, and his hands went to the bottom of her tank top, pulling it all the way up and off. He pulled her bra off, as well, not bothering to unclasp it as he wrenched it off her body. His hands groped at her body aggressively, trying to memorize every soft inch of her. His mouth wandered from her lips down to her neck, where he licked the fragile skin that separated him from her blood. She moaned softly to the ceiling.

His hands caressed down her back to the underside of her buttocks, which he grabbed onto tightly. In reflex, her legs moved to encircle his back. He strode over to the unmade bed and lay them down upon it.

Dragging himself away, her arms were forced to let him go, but they still reached out to him. Her eyes were hooded, and when they looked into his, she saw pure unadulterated desire. A flutter of arousal went through her stomach and caused her hidden crevice to moisten with need. He removed his shirt and bent over her to eliminate the remainder of the clothing that hindered his purpose. Once they were both naked, he reclaimed her pouting lips. He lightly bit her, in between plundering her mouth with his wicked tongue. She fought back with a force that matched his own.

His hand found her center and he roughly rubbed her into a frenzy. When his fingers felt her wetness, he plunged them into her core. She pulled her lips from his and gasped in surprised pleasure and pain. Only he could make her hurt in a way that made her want him even more.

Removing his fingers from her, she let out a whine of disappointment. He smirked, then lowered his head down to replace what his digits had done. His tongue pushed as far into her has he could, enjoying the taste of her arousal. It wasn't blood, but it was still her. It was her life.

She writhed underneath him, covering her mouth to silence her cries. His tongue pillaged her tight opening, relentlessly forcing her to peak. She looked down at him just before her entire body climaxed in release. He lightly lapped at her entrance, watching her come down from the height of her orgasm.

Still in a state of bliss, she was startled to suddenly feel his turgid flesh shoved into her. He hissed in appreciation of their union, and then he pounded into her. As they joined, he heard her heartbeat race toward another wave of pleasure. He slowed his pace and she protested. Her hands that had been stroking his back were now leaving angry red nail marks in their wake. He growled low and flipped her over so that she was impaled on top of him.

She smiled at his relinquished control and began to rock over him. Deciding to repay him in kind, she tantalizingly swayed her hips in all directions with his member still inside her. She arched her back and artfully displayed her bared breasts to his feasting eyes, but she stayed just out of reach of his lusting lips.

He grabbed her hips and coarsely moved her at a faster rhythm. She lay her chest onto his and moaned into his neck, sucking at the skin there. When she came for the second time, she bit into his shoulder and he hissed in satisfaction as he allowed himself to come with her.

After the waves of pleasure had subsided, Buffy found herself still flush to Angelus' body. His hands gripped her ass in an entitled manner, and he stared down at her. They lay like that for a while, listening to nothing but the crickets outside and Buffy's slowing heartbeat. He shifted underneath her, and moved her onto the bed beside him.

Buffy was dismayed when he left the bed and began to dress. Suddenly self-conscious, she tucked herself under the sheets and stared at him. When he was almost dressed, he looked back at her. She was fearful again. Her eyes couldn't help but dart to the stake that lay on the floor at his feet. With a knowing look, he retrieved it and brought it to her. She accepted it with confusion and hope in her eyes.

"You'll always be mine, Buff."

He walked to the window and exited gracefully. Buffy pulled the sheet off of the bed and held it against her as she crossed the room. She saw his withdrawing form walk swiftly down the street. He did not look back.

When he was out of sight, she looked down in despair. Something on the roof caught her eye, and she bent over the sill to obtain it. It was a piece of paper that had been folded several times. The script was familiar, as she had seen examples of Angelus' artistic handwriting on many occasions.

" _I won't bore you with the details, Slayer, but I wanted you to know that I won't be coming back anytime soon. I'm not human, and I won't lower myself to act like one. I know Spike and Dru will keep their promise to stay away from Sunnydale, but just remember this: I made and will make no such vow. We are poison to each other, because we are and will always remain enemies…"_

Buffy's eyes began to water at the admission, but she could not deny that he was right.

" _Still…poison isn't the worst way to go. Don't you agree, Buff? Be seeing you… - A."_


End file.
